


A Game of Cards

by Astus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha John Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Dean Winchester, Canonical Character Death, F/M, M/M, Omega Sam Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Dean, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Suicidal Thoughts, alphaplay, trust me it'll make sense when you read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 31,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astus/pseuds/Astus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where soulmates are rare, Sam discovers that Dean is his. This also mixes in A/B/O dynamics. This is the epic love story of Sam and Dean. It will be a long way til they find their happily ever after, but they'll get there eventually. Title is from this quote: "Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will." - Jawaharlal Nehru.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> None of the quotes used in this fic are actually quotes unless otherwise stated. Short prologue is short, but chapter one should be longer. Also, as a disclaimer: this fic is not finished nor does it have a beta. I do have a rough outline, emphasis on rough. I was going to take a year to write this and publish it as a big bang, but I lacked the motivation to start working on it. I figured maybe posting it and being answerable to the people that read it would give me more motivation. The tags will be updated as the story gets updated. I will try my best to update this every week. All right, enough author notes, let's get into this thing! :)

_“Only around 5% of the population of the world has a soul mate. As such, they are considered rare and should be cherished. God doesn't make mistakes. To not cherish your soul mate is to deny God. It is blasphemous.” - Pope Pius XII_

May 3, 2004  
1:20 A.M.  
Palo Alto, California

The burning in his chest woke him up. He was just twenty-one, he couldn't be having a heart attack, right? It was on the left side. Just under the collarbone. The left. Was that the right side for heart attacks? C'mon think, Sam. No pain in his arm. That was good. 

Jess was laying against his side. He scooted to the side of the mattress, trying not to wake her up. He would go get some water or something. That should help. It was probably heart burn. Yeah. Heart burn. He eased himself up from Jess and walked into the kitchen naked. 

He filled up a glass a water with trembling hands. His chest ached. He gulped the water. It didn't help. Maybe some antacids. He stumbled down the hallway and into the bathroom. He was reaching to open the mirrored door on the medicine cabinet when something caught his eye.

What the fuck? There was a black pattern forming on his chest. Sam rubbed at it. What was this? The work of a spirit? A demon? The pattern became more discernible. It was a pentagram, enclosed in a sun. Sam had seen this before. Where? Where had he seen it? Shit.

This was Dean's mark. Sam had Dean's mark on his skin. It was the night after his twenty-first birthday, and Sam woke up with Dean embedded in his skin. With the same mark that Dean had woken up with on the night after his twenty-first birthday, hungover and belligerent, when Sam was sixteen, almost seventeen. Sam had been envious at the time. Envious that Dean would always have somebody to love him. Envious that Dean would eventually love someone more than Sam. This could only mean one thing. Dean was his soul mate. 

He couldn't think about this now. His chest still burned. His eyes were blurred, and he rubbed at them. His fingers came away wet. It didn't have to mean anything. It didn't mean anything. He was with Jess. Dean had stopped calling him a year ago. Disowned him as his father had. He had normal now. He was happy.

He went back to bed, and as he spooned behind Jess, he told himself that this was all that matters. Not the past that he had left behind. But the girl in his arms. The degree he was striving towards. This was his future. Fuck destiny. He would make his own. He placed a kiss on the back of Jess's neck, and rubbed his aching chest.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very fluffy chapter! Enjoy it while it lasts. I'm going to try to post a new chapter next Saturday as well, but If I don't, then it should be the next week for sure. There is a Star Wars reference in here. From "Revenge of the Sith," just to let y'all know. And also, Star Trek TNG.

_Those who don't have fated soulmates, don't despair. We choose our own, our mates, and put our own mark on them. This practice started as a mimic. We mimicked the ones who already had their marks. It became a celebration of choice. We chose our own mates, and in doing so we pledge to them our commitment, loyalty, and love. With their marks on our skin, and our marks on theirs we become as soulmates.- Portion of Mating Ceremony, Author Unknown_

Fire. Everything was burning. Sweat was rolling into his eyes. The heat was outrageous. He couldn't think. He had been looking for something. Someone. If only he could think. He stumbled into the kitchen, flames licking at his skin but not burning him. There was a plate of cookies on the table. 

“Sam,” a voice called to him.

Jess. Of course. How could he have forgotten?

“Sam!” her voice louder now.

Sam stumbled back into the bedroom. Jess was pinned to the wall. 

“Jess!” he shouted. He reached for her. She shook her head.

“You can't save me, Sam,” she said as she started to slide up the wall. She kept sliding up, until she was on the ceiling. “Why can't you save me?” Jess asked. And then she burned.

“Shit! Shit!” Sam exclaimed as he sat up in bed. His heart was stuttering in his chest. A pair of long arms wrapped around him, and Sam jerked. 

“Shh. It's okay, Sam. I've got you,” Jess's voice whispered into his ear.

Sam relaxed, and returned her embrace. It was okay. It was just a dream. Just a dream. And yet he was reminded of Anakin and Padme. Anakin, who had dreamed of Padme's death every night. No wonder he went to the dark side. Sam thought he might have done the same.

“Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine,” he stuttered out.

“Same dream?” Jess asked. 

Sam nodded, and buried his face in her neck. They sat there for a minute. Taking the time to breathe and be still.

“Love you. Love you so much,” Sam murmured into pale soft skin.

“Love you too, baby,” Jess responded. “How about a lazy Sunday, stay in bed, binge watch DVDs, eat massive amounts of junk food, til we have to go to the party tonight?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Sam agreed. 

“Pancakes?” she asked.

“Perfect,” Sam said, leaning forward to drop a light kiss on her lips. “Give me a minute, and I'll come help.”

Sam watched her leave the room. His head dropped back onto the headboard, and he rubbed his face with the palm of his hands. Just a dream. The mark on his chest ached and he rubbed at it idly. Jess knew about the mark, of course. Knew what it meant. Knew what it didn't mean. The morning after it had appeared that had talked about it.

“So, you have a soulmate,” Jess had stated over coffee.

“I guess.”

“Do you want to find them?”

“No. I already know who it is.”

“Oh,” Jess had said as she looked down into her coffee mug. “Are you. . .” her voice trailed off.

“He is no longer in my life. He doesn't want to be. It's kind of complicated.”

“I'm sorry, Sam. Maybe if he knew-”

“No. I choose you, Jess. I don't care about the mark. It doesn't mean anything.”

“But-”

“But, nothing. I choose you. I always will.”

Jess looked up from her coffee. She watched him for a minute, then nodded. “I choose you too, Sam.”

And that was that. They chose each other, and it was never discussed again. He never told Jess who his soulmate was, and she had never asked. 

Sam got up, took a piss, and met Jess in the kitchen. After they had pancakes, and put the dishes in the dishwasher, he hoisted Jess up on the counter. He nudged her legs apart, and stood between her thighs. Leaning in, he kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, pulling him in closer. He responded by grinding into her. They both moaned.

“Take me to bed, baby,” Jess whispered.

“You don't want to fuck here?” he asked as he nipped on her lips. 

“Hell yes, I want to fuck here. But right now, I want to be in a bed. Slow and easy.”

“Whatever you say, Alpha,” Sam answered. 

“Damn right,” she responded, and bit his ear.

He lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist, and he walked her into the bedroom. 

Their morning was brilliant. Spent having lazy sex, and generally doing nothing but binge watching Star Trek The Next Generation. 

“C'mon, Q and Picard were totally hate banging,” Jess said. She gestured to the screen where said men were arguing.

“No way,” Sam laughed.

“Yes way. Look at that sexual tension.”

“It looks like they want to kill each other.”

“Exactly,” Jess said rather smugly. 

Sam shook his head. “Sure,” he said.

Over lunch, they talked about the party. 

“What do want to go as? I have a nurse costume. You could be my patient. You know, a couple's costume,” Jess persuaded.

“I'm not dressing up. You know how I feel about Halloween.”

“Don't be a spoilsport. You wouldn't even have to dress up that much. We could put a few band-aids on you, have a thermometer sticking out of your mouth, you could moan a lot.”

Sam smiled at her, but shook his head.

“Fine. Be that way,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

That night, when they got back from the party, Sam admitted to himself that he had had fun. They had hung out with their friends, Jess had gotten to brag about his LSAT scores. It had been nice. Jess took off her costume, put on her well worn smurf t-shirt that her sister had bought her a couple of years ago, and they settled down to sleep.

Sam was woken abruptly by a sound that was out of place. He stayed still for a moment, heard another sound, and then rolled out of bed.  
He still remembered this. How to protect someone. How to risk himself. 

Jess's alpha status didn't matter. Sure, they would use it in bed sometimes. But neither Sam nor Jess believed that a person's status was a guide to who they should be. It was a relief to Sam. John had been a somewhat traditional alpha, making sure that his omega son did research more than participated in field work. With the exception of interviewing witnesses.

“They trust you, son. Just bat those pretty little omega eyes at them. They want to protect you, nurture you. Use that,” his father would tell him.

And Sam did. He was an expert at puppy dog eyes, as Dean called them. He was an expert at lying. With Jess, he didn't have to lie. She accepted him for who he was. It didn't occur to him to wake Jess up as moved into the hallway. He didn't need his Alpha's protection.

He saw a shadow and his adrenaline spiked. He fell into a fighting stance and waited for the shadow to attack. It was like a dance. His moves were a bit rusty, but he still manged to match his partner's steps. His mind cleared, and his body moved. Twisted. Ducked. Parried. His partner mirrored him, and they waltzed. Not quite seamless, but familiar. But it had been too long for Sam, and his steps faltered. He missed one, or maybe stepped too quick and too soon. And so Sam was taken down to his back with a heavy body on top of him. 

A voice whispered into his ear, “Whoa, easy, tiger.”

Sam released a breath. Dean.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a rehash of the pilot with Sam's thoughts. It might seem a little jumpy, that's because I didn't want to put everything in here just the parts that are important to Dean and Sam in this story. So, very sorry for the jumpiness. And I promise that the next chapter won't be like this with the second episode. This should be one of the only chapters written like this. I just wanted to make sure that Sam's thinking was clear for understanding his future actions. So, too much explainy, I'll shut up now and let you read it.

_All Omegas are intersex, and have functioning reproductive systems. It is generally accepted that male Omegas are taller, broader, and don't develop breasts unless they become pregnant; and that female omegas are shorter, slighter, and develop breasts with the onset of puberty. However, most omegas are not officially identified as female or male until the omegas themselves declare their own gender identity. - Taylor's Guide to Genders and Gender Identity in Alphas, Beta, and Omegas_

October 31, 2005

Their father was missing, and Dean had talked him into joining the search. So here Sam sat the road stretching before him and Dean. This was familiar. The concrete river that curved before them, dark and still. The sound of cock rock on the radio. He had been here a million times. In the passenger seat with Dean driving, in the backseat with their Dad driving. His brother calling him Sammy. Sam had grown up, but Dean didn't seem to notice. He seemed to always be put in the omega box of must be protected. 

“Take care of Sammy,” their father had always ordered.

Well, Sam could damn well take of himself. 

He decided to call the local hospital and morgue to see if anyone fitting their dad's description was there. Better to know either way. 

“Thank you,” Sam said as he was hanging up the phone. That had been a bust. Which was a good thing. 

“All right. So, there's no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So, that's something I guess.”

Dean said nothing, just gave him a look and then turned back to the road. Okay then. Sam wished that Dean could accept that their Dad was not invincible or infallible. He could be hurt, and he could be wrong. 

They approached a bridge, and there were cops gathered on it. 

“Check it out,” Dean directed. 

Sam does, and Dean pulled the car over for them to get a closer look. At least that's what Sam assumed until Dean opened the glove compartment box and pulled out fake ID's. 

“Let's go,” Dean said. He left the car and sauntered toward the officers. 

Sam sighed and rolled his shoulders. And it begins.

There was a girl putting up missing posters of the boy that had disappeared. The boy the cops had been talking about. Searching for. Poor girl. Sam was pretty sure that all that was left of that boy was an empty car on a bridge. 

“I bet you that's her. The girlfriend that the cops mentioned” Dean told Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

They walked up to her. They were up to the questioning witnesses part of the investigation, Sam supposed. He stood, a little hunched over, a tried to look innocent while Dean took the lead.

“You must be Amy,” Dean said confidently.

“Yeah,” she responded.

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy,” Dean introduced them.

Sam cringed on the inside. Could Dean make them sound more like a couple? His uncles. Like they were mates, or long term boyfriends. And Sammy. Again. Sam thought, that to be fair, Dean probably wasn't aware he was doing it. Dean had always thought of Sam as his. His little brother, his responsibility, his Sammy. It was their Dad's fault, as he was always leaving Sam with Dean. He had always placed Sam into Dean's hands since the night of the fire. 

But Sam went along with it. And in the diner, when Dean slung his arm up on the booth behind Sam, Sam didn't move either towards Dean or away. It was just par for the course. Dean didn't know about the soul mate mark. That was all that mattered. Dean didn't know, and Sam had already chosen Jess. He wanted to ask her to mate with him. Sam hadn't gotten to choose a lot about what happened in his life. He packed his stuff and left town when told to, he trained when his father said he needed to, and he researched when asked. But Stanford had been his choice, and so was Jess.

How did it get to this? They had been talking about the case, which had turned into an argument about the interview that Sam had, which had turned into an argument about Sam's chosen path.

“You're one of us,” Dean informed him. 

Sam was enraged. Because if there was one thing he could say for sure about his childhood, it was that he had never been one of them. Always excluded. Always protected. Just because of what he had between his legs. Sam catches up to Dean and steps in front of him.

“No, I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to-”

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

Sam found himself pinned to the bridge railing with Dean pressed up against him. He felt outrage that Dean would manhandle him like this. Of course he did. But he also felt. . .something else. Something hot. Something chaotic that beat at his throat, his chest. He stilled.

“Don't talk about her like that,” Dean said, but Sam could barely hear him. And then Dean let go. Sam sighed in relief. He was done with chaos.

Later in John's motel room, after Dean's fall from the bridge, and they've examined their Dad's evidence on the case, Sam decides to make amends about their argument on the bridge.

“Hey, Dean? What I said earlier, about Mom and Dad, I'm sorry,” Sam said. And he was. Even if he wasn't really sorry about what he said. He still believed that vengeance was futile. That it wouldn't bring anyone back. Still didn't feel any connection with their mother. Still had no memories of her. But he was sorry that he had hurt Dean. 

“No chick flick moments,” Dean replied while raising his hand up.

Sam laughed because it was such a Dean reaction. And he concedes. “All right. Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean responded. Like it was natural. Like they had never been apart. And Sam smiled.

There was nothing Sam could have done. Constance had taken him. Taken him to her old house so he could be added to her list of victims.

“Hold me. I'm so cold,” Constance said. 

“You can't kill me. I'm not unfaithful. I've never been,” Sam responded. And he thought of Dean.

“You will be. Just hold me.”

Constance kissed him. Her lips were cold and dead, and Sam tried to turn his mouth away. Tried to wriggle his way out of her grasp. She disappears for a moment, and then her hand is reaching into his chest. Sam screamed. The pain was excruciating, her fingers like knives stabbing into his body.   
A gun went off. Glass shattered everywhere. A few more shots, and Constance was gone. Sam looked over. Dean. Of course. Always Dean. Without Constance's presence he managed to start the car.

“I'm taking you home,” Sam stated. And then he did, driving the car into the house.

November 2, 2005

On the drive home, Sam thought about what Constance had said. That he would be unfaithful. Did she mean her forced kiss? Or did she mean something else? He glanced over at Dean. He had to stop himself from rubbing the mark on his chest. No. He was not unfaithful when Constance kissed him because he had not consented. And he would not be unfaithful with Dean because he had already chosen Jess. He would not succumb to fate. Wasn't that why he had hidden his mark from Dean? Jess was perfect for him, and he didn't need a mark that told him differently. 

Dean dropped him like he promised. Sam was sorry to see him go. He would like to be brothers again. To be friends again. He walked back to his apartment that he shared with Jess.

“Jess?” Sam called out when he opened the door. “You home?”

The apartment was quiet and still. There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table with a note from Jess. Something about the cookies threw him off for a second. He paused for a moment before he grabbed one. What was it about the cookies? Oh, well. Must not have been too important. He walked into the bedroom, sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and let himself drop down onto the mattress. Something wet dripped on his forehead. Sam opened his eyes confused. And then he remembered what had been off about the cookies. It was just like his dream. Jess was on the ceiling, blood dripping out of her. God, blood was everywhere. Sam had to stop it. He knew how to patch up a wound. He could stop the bleeding. He was sure of it. He reached up for her, and then his whole world caught on fire.

“No!” he shouted. 

The heat surrounds him. He had to get Jess out. He had to save her.

“Jess!” he called. “Jess!”

He could reach her. He lunged forward again, but there was something preventing him from reaching her. He struggled against. Struggled against steel bands. He was going to rescue her. But somehow he failed, because he was being dragged out. Dragged away from everything.

“Sam!” 

Sam turned his head. Oh. The steel bands were Dean's arms. He stopped struggling, and relaxed into them. 

“Dean,” Sam breathed. “Jess.”

“Yeah, I know. I got you. I got you.”

Afterward, when flames had been snuffed out and there was nothing left but ashes, Sam made his choice. He stood at the impala loading a shotgun. He saw Dean approach. He tossed the shotgun into the trunk, and nodded at Dean.

“We have work to do,” he said. Hopefully, vengeance would make a difference after all. 


	4. Denial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look an actual chapter title! The others might get one as well. We'll see.

_Betas make up about half of the total population. Unlike Alphas and Omegas, Betas are infertile. They cannot conceive children. Female Betas do not have menstrual cycles, and male Betas do not have viable sperm. - Taylor's Guide to Reproductive Biology in Alphas, Beta, and Omegas._

It had been a few weeks since Jess's death. Sam wasn't sure exactly how long. All of his days bled together. Time was measured in cases. Time was measured in restless nights when he didn't sleep, and nightmares when he did. Where was John? Sam had never needed him more. Dean had told him that he thought that Dad wanted them hunting again. That Dad wanted them on cases again. As a family. Sam wasn't sure. 

Sometimes, when he thought about John, he thought he was selfish. That he didn't care about his kids, or even about saving people. That he just cared about the mission, which was avenging Mary. At other times, Sam knew that wasn't true. That John did love them. Otherwise why would have protected him when he was younger? Why would he have made sure that Dean looked out for him when he was gone? It couldn't have been just because he thought it was his duty as Sam's alpha, could it? 

And now here he was becoming his father. He thirsted for vengeance. He wanted to taste it in his throat. He had never understood his father more. 

Sam and Dean entered their motel room after yet another hunt. Sam wasn't sure what state they were in anymore. Everything was the same. Why bother keeping track?

“I don't wanna argue about this anymore,” Dean said as he closed the motel door.

“Then don't. This all just seems like a waste of time when we could be tracking Dad down.”

“We both know that as long as he doesn't want to be found, he's not gonna be.”

“Look Dean-” Sam cut himself off abruptly.

Dean was taking his shirt off, and Sam was transfixed. He had seen Dean with his shirt off countless times. So, where was this heat coming from? Why did he want to run his fingers over the curves of Dean's upper arms? There was a fading bruise on one of them. Sam didn't remember where Dean had gotten it. But he found himself wanting to press his fingers into it, til Dean reacted. Reacted to him. For him. His eyes found Dean's mark, and traced over it. His own mark felt like it was burning. Like he was carrying Dean's brand. Like he belonged to Dean.

Jesus fucking Christ. Jess had just died, and he was already dishonoring her memory. He turned away in disgust. He would not do this. Just because Jess was dead didn't mean she wasn't his choice anymore. He still loved her. Would always love her. No mark could change that.

Dean looked over at him. “I get that it's hard right now. I promise we'll find him eventually. We'll end this once and for all.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said.

There was silence for a moment. 

“I call first shower,” Sam declared and almost ran to the bathroom.

The shower wasn't hot enough. It left his skin red. Tender. But Sam still couldn't get it hot enough. Couldn't burn off his sin. He gave up after scrubbing himself clean, and turned the shower off. He could hear the TV in the other room, but somehow it was too quiet. There was no sound of someone singing off-key as she moved around the apartment. There was no laughter as she slipped inside the shower and ran her hands up his back and playfully bit at his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment, and found himself in front of the mirror when he opened them.

He wiped the steam off. His clothes were sitting in a pile on top of the toilet. He had been getting dressed in the bathroom ever since they hit the road. He couldn't let Dean see him without his shirt off. Then he would see the mark. Sam traced his fingers over it. It exactly matched Dean's. He would know immediately what it was if he saw it. If Dean didn't see the mark he couldn't be Sam's soul mate. If he told Dean, if Dean somehow found out about it, it would be a betrayal to Jess. A betrayal of his choice. It would be like choosing Dean. 

“How much longer you gonna be, princess?” Dean's voice came through the door.

“Just a minute, asshole,” Sam responded. 

Sam slipped his t-shirt over his head, covering the mark. When Sam couldn't see it anymore, he felt relieved. 

All Sam felt was heat. He opened his eyes, and there was Jess. Beautiful. Effulgent. He reached for her, and when his fingertips grazed her cheek, she burst into flames. His hands didn't burn. Sam didn't know why Jess would burn when he stayed untouched. 

“What did I tell you, Sam? You couldn't save me,” she spoke. And then she smiled at him. “Wake up,” she ordered.

Sam woke up to Dean shaking him.

“You were yelling,” Dean told him.

Sam took a minute and a few deep breaths before he responded. “Oh. Sorry. For waking you up.”

Dean shook his head. “You got something you want to tell me? Something you want to talk about?” Dean asked.

Sam thought about the Bloody Mary case. He thought about his guilt when he looked himself in the eyes. He thought about the blood that had run down his face. That blood that was on his hands. 

Sam turned over in his bed, away from his brother. “No.”

Sam could feel Dean as he watched him. He closed his eyes. And Dean eventually got back into his own bed. Sam didn't sleep. 

The next morning Sam got up, and went toward his duffel. Dean's voice startled him. He was already up and sitting in the chair across the room.

“I know you're not sleeping Sammy,” Dean accused.

“It's Sam,” Sam ground out.

“You know it wasn't your fault, right?”

Sam shook his head and turned away. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Yeah. You do.”

“Just leave it alone, Dean.”

“No. You gotta talk to me, man. Or it's gonna eat you up inside.”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Sam reiterated.

“Really? You're girlfriend burned up on the ceiling, just like Mom, and there's nothing to talk about?”

“Nothing I want to talk about.”

Sam could hear Dean sigh behind him, while he started to pack up their duffel bags.

“Fine. I'm gonna go get us some breakfast then,” Dean said. Sam heard the door close after him. He sat down on the bed, and rubbed his hands across his face. Of course it was his fault. But he couldn't tell Dean about the dreams. Then Dean would know. He would know that his brother was a freak. But worst of all, he would know that Sam could have stopped it. That Sam could have saved Jess. 

Sam went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take his pill.

He put his birth control pill in his mouth, and then spit it out into the trashcan. What was the point? He didn't need it anymore. There wasn't a risk of becoming pregnant. Hell, Dean was his soul mate. Even if he did move on, even if he did decide to accept his fate, he would never have to take birth control again. There would be no kids for him in the future. No kids with Jess's hair and Sam's eyes. No kids with awkward limbs, and heartbreaking smiles. 

Sam threw the rest of the pack in the trash as well. 


	5. Unrequited?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I was sick. Blame my husband, he gave me a cold. Some of the dialogue in here is from "Skin," and some is my own. Oh, and I lied. This chapter is very heavily "Skin" centric, and there will be a couple more chapters that will also be episode centric, but with my own dialogue added as you'll see here. Hope y'all don't mind too much. Hope you enjoy.

_Omegas appear to have a nesting instinct. They like to settle down in one place and make it their home. This instinct probably goes back to when all humans were nomadic, before agricultural progress in the form of farming. It was easier to protect offspring from one place. From a stronghold. - Taylor's Guide to Genders and Gender Identity in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas_

 

Another day, another city. Still no John. Sam sighed.

“We need gas, then we can talk about plans for the day,” Dean announced.

“Okay,” Sam said.

At the gas station, Sam takes the time to check his emails. There were a few from friends. They were worried about him now that Jess was dead. He could hear Dean in the background.

“Alright, I figure we'd hit Tucumcari by lunch, then head south, hit Bisbee by midnight. Sam wears women's underwear.”

Sam heard everything, and he flushed a little. Sam's underwear preference was no business of Dean's.

“I've been listening. I'm just busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“Reading e-mails.”

“Emails from who?”

Sam wanted to ask if that was any of Dean's business. But he knew how Dean got. When John wasn’t around, he took the position of Sam's alpha. It was easier just to placate him.

'From my friends at Stanford.”

“You're kidding. You still keep in touch with your college buddies?”

“Why not?”

“I don't know. Because of what we do. Who we are. Are you honest with them?”

“Of course not. We do we do and shut up about it,” Sam said. “Isn't that the family motto?”

“Don't you get tired of lying?”

“So, what I am supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?”

Dean shrugged. Sam looked at him in amazement.

“You serious?”

“Look, it sucks, but in a job like this this you can't get close to people, period.”

“Just because you live you're life like that, doesn't mean I have to.”

“It's not good for you, Sammy. You're an omega.”

“And?”

“And, you start forming attachments you're gonna wanna settle down, like you did with Jess. It's your instinct. That's gonna hurt the mission. That''s gonna hurt...” Dean trailed off.

“You, Dean? Hurt you? Don't you want me to be happy someday?”

“Yeah, of course. I just, nevermind.”

After Dean was done pumping gas, getting snacks, and they had argued about helping Becky and he eased back into the Impala with Sam, Sam decided to take pity on him.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for this. Going to help my friends. I appreciate it. And, for what's it worth, I don't plan on settling down anytime soon. It's way too soon after Jess, and maybe I like being around my big brother again.”

Dean nodded, but didn't say anything. But Sam saw him smiling out of the corner of his eye.

 

Dean had been right. It was nice seeing Becky again. But it was also awkward. Even after such a short time, after seeing his friends, he felt like he didn't fit in anymore. He felt like the freak that he always was. The freak he always would be. Maybe, sometime in the future, he would be able to leave the life and settle down. Have a normal life again. But right now, he wasn't able to imagine it. He was only living day to day. Hoping to find their dad, and desperate to avenge Jess.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean called, interrupting his thoughts.

Sam looked over to the driver's seat to find Dean's hand hovering over his face.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

“I'm not touching you.”

“God, you're such a child,” Sam responded. He tried to keep hs bitch face in place, but found himself smiling.

“That's better.”

“What's better?”

“You, smiling.”

“Dean-”

Dean lifted up his hand again. He caressed Sam's face.

“Shh, you'll ruin the moment,” he whispered.

Sam laughed. He missed this. Being brothers. He missed not having to worry about about anything when he was with Dean. He missed their banter. He wanted to be close to Dean again. He wanted to be brothers again. It was nice to have a goal that didn't stink of smoke and vengeance.

 

A shapeshifter, of course. The only problem was that they didn't know who they were looking for, since it could literally look like anyone. They were searching the sewers. And then Sam finds a clue. Well, piles of skin. But at least they know he lives down here now.

“Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with?” Sam asked, but as he turned he saw the shapeshifter behind Dean.

“Dean!”

Sam watched Dean turn around, and then get punched by the creature. Sam aimed his gun, and managed to fire off a few shots, but he missed and the shifter ran away. He went over to Dean.

“Get the son of a bitch,” Dean ordered.

 

Sam woke up. He hurt. He tried to check out his injuries, and then discovered his hands were tied to something. He leaned forward little and discovered his neck was bound as well. Well, fuck. Okay, so the mistake was splitting up. Sam could admit that. Not-Dean approached and backhanded him. Sam groaned in pain. Not just physical. It still felt like Dean's hand. Dean's scarred, callused hand that inflicted pain on him.

“Where's Dean?” Sam asked.

“I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you.”

“Where is he?” Sam repeated.

“You don't really wanna know. I swear, the more I learn about you and your family- I thought I came from a bad background.”

“What do you mean, learn?”

Not-Dean stopped moving around for a second. He grabbed his head. Sam didn't know what was going on. And then it stopped. Not-Dean relaxed and looked back over at Sam.

“He has a soulmate. But he doesn't want them. I mean, I don't want them. You know who I do want, Sammy?”

Not-Dean leaned closer to Sam. Sam felt his hot breath stir his hair.

“Where is my brother?”

Not-Dean squatted so that he was on Sam's level. He leaned in and whispered in Sam's ear.

“I don't feel very brotherly toward you, Sam.” He pulled back, looked Sam in the eye, and licked his lips. “Doesn't stop me from fucking around though. I can't let you know about this. Can't put any pressure on the precious omega. Can't let you know about my twisted desires.” He reached out, and ran his hand down Sam's neck. “That's why I fuck anything that moves. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let's see what happens,” he said as he smiled at Sam.

 

Everything ended up working out. Dean was considered to be a murderer, and dead. But it was still a win, right? Right. Only Sam had new information. Information that he had never asked for.

Sam knew now that Dean wanted him. It was odd knowledge to have. In a way, they had both been denying their soulmate. They had both been choosing their own destiny. Of course, Dean didn't know tht he had wanted his soulmate the whole time. Sam still wasn't planning on telling him. Sam's feelings hadn't changed with the knowledge of Dean's. Dean would find someone else and be happy. Sam knew that Dean had options. So ultimately this changed nothing. Dean's feelings were unrequited. Sam had made his decision. Nothing could change it. He just had to make sure that Dean never found out about his mark. It was better for both of them.

 

“Sorry, man,” Dean said when they were leaving town.

“About what?”

“I really wish things could be different, you know? I wish you could just be. . .Joe College.”

Sam wondered if that was the truth, knowing how Dean felt about him. Maybe it was. Maybe Dean was happy for him, proud of him. Maybe he loved Sam enough to let him make his own choices,

“No, that's okay. You know, the truth is, even at Stanford, deep down, I never really fit in,” Sam responded. And in some ways it was the truth, and in some ways it was a lie. Because he had certainely fit in with Jess.

“Well, that's 'cause you're a freak.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“well, I'm a freak too. I'm right there with ya, all the way.”

Sam couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah, I know you are,” he answered.

“You know, I gotta say, I'm sorry I'm gonna miss it.”

“Miss what?” Sam asked.

“How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?” he smiled at Sam. Sam smiled back. They both knew when they died there would be no funeral. No officially anyway. Just a pyre. And then nothing but ashes.

 

 


	6. Denial revisited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are References to "Hookman" and "Bugs," in this chapter. The quote is an actual quote this time, not one I made up. Enjoy!

_Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he's trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night. - John Winchester's Journal_

 

Sam's plan was simple. Get back to being brothers with Dean. Put their relationship in its proper place. He couldn't believe he had been so blind before. How could he not have noticed that Dean had feelings for him? It was all there. The long looks, the possessiveness. Hell, he had even insinuated that they were a couple before. Sam had thought it was the omega thing. Dean was just being the protective big brother, acting as an alpha when their father couldn't. But Sam couldn't unlearn this information, and now he saw it.

Like in Iowa, with Lori. Dean had been far too interested in what had been going on between them. Not that anything really was, but he couldn't convince Dean of that. He had even offered to stay for a few days.

Sam had almost kissed her, but he had seen Jess's face. He always saw her face. At night, when he dreamed. During the day, when he saw a blonde woman in a crowd, when he heard a similar laugh. Once, when he saw a woman in a soft brown sweater. It had looked just like the sweater she used to wear on lazy Sundays, with her hair up in a messy ponytail, and her face free of makeup. No, he couldn't kiss anyone else.

So, Sam just continued. He was “saving people, and hunting things,” and getting his relationship with his brother back on track. He tried to joke with him more, annoy him more, do things with him that a brother would do. Sam thought everything was going well with Dean. It was the one area of his life where things were falling into place.

Until Oasis Plans, Oklahoma. Until they went to the subdivision that was infested with bugs, and everyone had thought they were mates.

Dean had gone along with them being a couple. Even gone so far as to slap Sam's ass, and he called him honey. The problem was not that Dean had done these things. They had posed as a couple before, in the year before Sam left for college. No, the problem was Sam's reaction to it.

He had liked it. A little. He had liked being thought of as Dean's. He had like Dean's term of endearment. What the hell was happening to him? There was no way he had feelings for Dean. The only explanation that Sam could come up with was transference. He was transferring his feelings for Jess to Dean. It made sense. Dean treating him like a boyfriend was just him missing being Jess's boyfriend. That was all.

He knew what he had to do. He had to actively start putting Dean in the box of brother. He would start tonight. It was for the best. Best for him and best for Dean. He wasn't going to let his emotions for Jess twist his relationship with Dean, and it was better for Dean if he moved on.

 

After they checked into a motel that night, they both took showers and got redressed in cleaner clothes.

“You feel like watching the game? Spending a little time with your big brother?” Dean asked as he went to put his arm around Sam. Sam moved out from under it.

No. That wouldn't do. The last thing they needed was to stay in this motel room all night. Alone. Sam tried to redirect.

“You hungry, bro?” Sam asked, as he put on his jacket.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean responded.

“Good. We should go out to get something. To eat. At like, a bar or something. You can, you know, hit on chicks.”

“You okay, man?” Dean asked, eying him warily.

“Yeah. Yeah. We just haven't been to a bar in a while. Thought you might be itchin' for a little action,” Sam said, then immediately winced.

“Itchin' for a little action?” Dean asked.

“You know what I mean.”

“I know that you appear to have had a stroke,” Dean responded.

“You know what I mean. I just,” Sam paused for a second. “I just don't wanna hold you back,” he continued. He looked down at the floor, then back up, puppy dog eyes in full force.

“Not the puppy dog eyes,” Dean groaned.

Sam stared at him for a minute.

“Alright,” Dean agreed.

Sam smiled. Phase one was complete.

They started walking out the door. “Hey, man,” Dean stopped him.

“Yeah?”

“You've never held me back, Sammy.”

“Dean-”

“I'm serious. I'm glad you're here.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Enough chick flick moments. Let's go,” Dean said as he shut the motel door behind them.

 

At the bar, there was a brunette eying Dean at the pool table. Sam nudged him in her direction after they both had gotten beers.

“There's a hot girl waiting to get in your pants,” Sam nodded his head toward her.

Dean glanced over. He smirked at the girl. “I think we need a little money for gas, Sam. Go ahead and order me a burger. I'll be back in a few minutes,” he said as he started walking in the girl's direction.

“Sure,” Sam said. But Dean didn't hear him. He was already halfway to the girl. Sam ordered from the bartender. He figured he could just wrap up Dean's burger for him if he was otherwise occupied.

He looked back at Dean. He was flirting with the girl. Smiling at her, with one of his fingers wrapped around a piece of her hair. He was leaning into her, focusing all his attention on her. Sam turned back to face the bar.

“Hey,” he got the bartender's attention. “Can I have both of those burgers to go please?”

When Sam left, Dean didn't notice.

 

Back at the motel, Sam had finished his burger. He flipped through the channels without having much interest, and finally settled on some nature documentary when Dean sauntered in.

“Why'd you leave?” Dean asked.

“Figured you be busy for the rest of night. But you're back kinda early.”

“Yeah. Got hungry for my burger. Had to come back since I figured you burgernapped it,” Dean looked at him as he picked up the container his burger was in.

“You didn't get laid? Or did things end, a little uh, prematurely?” Sam had no idea why he had just asked that question.

“Funny. Nah. She was hot, but as boring as white bread.”

“I thought the only requirement was hot.”

“Not a teenager anymore, Sammy. I got standards now. Good news is, I won 200 hundred dollars off her,” Dean said as he fished out the cash from his pocket, and held it up for Sam to see.

“Standards, right. More like she turned you down after you hustled her,” Sam scoffed, and turned up the T.V. He felt relieved, and he wasn't sure why. After all, his plan had failed. Dean didn't have sex with anybody. But it was nice to spend some time with his brother, sitting together in front of the T.V., while Dean ate his burger.

“Could you eat any louder, Dean?” Sam complained.

“Yep,” Dean said. And then he started smacking, mouth open, food dribbling onto his chin.

“Idiot,” Sam muttered, but he was smiling. Dean always made him smile.

“Shut up, and watch these lions get it on,” Dean answered.

Dean rested his arm on the back of the couch, and Sam leaned into it. They were both quiet after that. No words needed to be said.

 


	7. A Mother's Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has dialogue and references to "Home." It's not a very exciting chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. More excitement next chapter. Promise. Happy Halloween, y'all!

_Omegas begin to menstruate once they hit puberty. This sixty day cycle will continue until they get pregnant, when it will stop temporarily for the duration of the pregnancy. Omegas will eventually go into menopause, and their cycle will permanently stop.- Taylor's Guide to Reproductive Biology in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas._

 

Sam couldn't believe that he had another dream. And this one was about Kansas. About a woman who lived in the house where his mother had died. And now they were on their way there. And he had told Dean about the dreams. It was a relief, that Dean knew. That he could be honest with him about this.

He knew Dean didn't particularly want to go back to their old house. That he had bad memories of it. But, to be honest, Sam was curious. He has no memories of it, only pictures. He wondered if he would feel connected to his mom there, or if maybe his memories of Jess's death would be overwhelming since they died in the same way.

 

The only thing he knew about his mother and her feelings toward him, was what his brother had told him once. Sam had been about twelve, and Dean around sixteen. Sam had just gotten his first period.

“Dean,” he had called from the bathroom.

“Yeah,” his brother had answered.

“I need some help,” he requested.

Sam had heard Dean getting up with a sigh, and then heavy footsteps made their way to the bathroom.

“What? I was just about to go out.”

“Your date can wait twenty minutes,” Sam muttered.

“Man, then you haven't seen Tasha.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Focus, Dean. I need...” Sam paused, embarrassed. He had known it was natural. All omegas got their periods. It didn't mean anything. He could do this. He could tell Dean what he needed.

“What is it, Sammy. You're not hurt, right?”

“No. I. . .I'm bleeding Dean.”

“Bleeding! You said you weren't hurt. Dammit Sammy, let me in,” Dean had demanded.

“I'm not hurt. I got my period,” Sam mumbled.

Dean heard him anyway. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I need you to go to the store for me. I need stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Pads, tampons, whatever. I don't know, I've never had it before,” Sam had responded.

“Okay, Sam. I'm going. I'll be back in a few minutes,” Dean sounded determined.

Sam had been relieved, and waited in the bathroom for what seemed like forever, one hand holding his aching stomach, before he heard Dean let himself back into the motel room.

“I got it, Sam,” he called out. “Could you open the bathroom door?” he asked.

Sam had opened the door slowly. Dean had handed him a bag full of different things.

“What's all this?” Sam asked.

Dean waggled his eyebrows at him. “I got lucky. An omega was running the register. She helped me pick out everything. I got you pads, and tampons. A couple of different types. Super, overnight, wings, stuff like that. I also got you pain relievers, chocolate, and a heating pad. She said they were good for cramps.”

Sam might have gotten a little teary eyed. “Thanks, Dean. You didn't have to do all of this. You can go on your date now.”

“Nah, I already canceled. Can't leave my little brother alone at a time like this,” he looked down, and scuffed his boot on the carpet. “Besides, it's what Mom would have wanted.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She would have loved to have been here for you, Sammy. I remember when she brought you home from the hospital. She was proud you were an omega. Just like her.”

“You were four years old, you couldn't have-”

“I remember that, Sam. Just like I remember giving you kisses good night, and trying to sneak into your crib at night. She told me that you were precious, and we had to make sure you were protected.” Dean had looked at him, green eyes somber on his face.

Sam had been feeling emotional, and he had reached out to him, hugged him.

“Thanks Dean, for everything,” he said, and he knew that Dean knew that he wasn't thanking him for the supplies.

 

So now, they were on their way back home. To rescue a woman that he had dreamed was in danger. And he wondered if his mom would still be proud of him if she knew her omega son was a freak. But at least he could save people with his dreams, now that he was paying attention to them. Like he'd been unable to save Jess. He would save this woman. No one else would die in the same house his mother had died in, at least not violently.

After they had met with Jenny, they pulled into a gas station. Sam was eager to get to the job after hearing the details. He wanted to believe that it was the same thing that had killed his mom and Jessica. He wanted to believe that his crusade could be finished soon.

“We just gotta chill out, that's all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?” Dean asked.

“We'd try to figure out what we were dealing with. We'd dig into the history of the house,” Sam replied.

“Exactly, except this time, we already know what happened.”

“Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

“About that night, you mean?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

“Not much. I remember the fire...the heat. And then I carried you out the front door.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

“No,” Sam replied. Dean had acted as Sam's alpha even then. Protecting him, being responsible for him. It was like their father had passed over his alpha duties to Dean. Giving him to Dean.

“And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was...on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

“Okay. So, if we're gonna figure out what's going on now we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it's the same thing,” Sam said. Please let it be the same thing. Please let him, let them, find this and take care of it once and for all.

“Yeah. We'll talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time,” Dean replied.

“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam asked.

“I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom,” Dean said, and then walked off.

All Sam could think about was maybe it was the job. The last job. The job of killing of the thing that had killed his mom and Jess. And then there would be no more jobs. Then there would only be rest. Sam was so tired.

 

They had saved Jenny and her children. However, Sam didn't know it would feel like this, seeing his mom again. No, not again. For the first time. The first time that had ever seen her anywhere but a picture. The first six months of his life didn't count. He has no memories of them. No memories of her. Except this one. This one where she wasn't even alive, and all she said to him was, “I'm sorry.”

What was she sorry for? Not protecting him? Burning on the ceiling? He didn't know. And he supposed he never would. He would never see her again to ask. Missouri had said that she was gone. That she had burned her own energy out. That she was destroyed. Did that mean there was no heaven or hell for her? If her energy no longer existed, did she just go poof?

And to top it all off, they took down a poltergeist. Not the thing that had killed her, or Jess, he was having more precognitive dreams, their dad still hadn't appeared, and Dean didn't seem to want to actively find him. Just like old times.

“We should trust him. Its not time yet,” Dean had said when Sam had asked about their dad again. Just as he had when they were kids. Just like he always would.

Sam was frustrated, and hurting. He was afraid of what he would turn into if this was dragged out much longer. Maybe he would become John, hard, desperate, and bitter. Maybe it would be better if he did.

“Toughen up, Sammy,” John would tell him when he didn't want to move again. When he wanted normalcy in a world full of chaos. And so he had. He had stopped trying to make friends, he had gotten use to being alone, and he let his brother slowly drift away to be “the good son.” And he could do it again. He could be anything for Jess. He was just so angry. Angry that he kept failing. Angry at the lack of progress.

He missed Jess. He missed her taste, her smell, the sound of her laughter. He missed who he was when he was with her.

Sam lied down to sleep, and prayed. He prayed to find Mom's and Jess's killer, he prayed to find their dad, he prayed that he and Dean could be normal brothers, but most of all he prayed for a dreamless sleep. He wanted to rest.

 


	8. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Asylum." The quote at the beginning is not my own. Hope y'all enjoy!

_Post-traumatic stress disorder is a mental health condition that's triggered by a terrifying event-either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashbacks, nightmares and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event." - Mayo Clinic_

 

Sam couldn't believe he was here. At a therapist's office. It was for a case, but still. He had gone to therapy before. Back when he first started Stanford. He had woken up Brady a few times with nightmares. A couple of those times, Brady had tried to shake him awake. Sam had come to once with Brady pinned underneath him, his arms holding Brady down. Brady then mentioned that the school offered free therapy for their students, and strongly suggested that Sam should take advantage of it.

The therapist had told him that he had PTSD. It made sense. He would jump sometimes when a car backfired. His hands would shake when the lights flickered. Sam knew that this hadn't been normal behavior. But Brady had been kind. Understanding. He had wrapped his arms around Sam after the sessions, and they would lie together on the beds they had pushed together. He never pushed for answers, and Sam never gave him any.

When Brady's behavior had changed, Sam had tried to save him in return. It hadn't helped. Sam hadn't helped. Useless. He was always so useless.

“Mr. Winchester?” the receptionist called.

Sam looked up, pushed out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

“Dr. Ellicot will see you now.”

Sam nodded, stood up, took a deep breath, and walked into the office.

 

“I've just been on a...road trip with my brother,” Sam said.

“Was that fun?” Dr. Ellicott asked.

Sam didn't think fun was the right word. Painful maybe. “Loads,” he responds. “Umm. You know, we...ah...we...met...a lot of...interesting people. Did a lot of...ah...interesting things...ahh. You know? What was it exactly that happened in the south wing? I forget...”

“Look, if you're a local history buff, you know all about the Roosevelt riot,” Dr. Ellicott interrupted Sam's rambling.

“The riot. Well, no. I'm just curious.”

“Sam. Let's cut the bull, shall we. You're avoiding the subject.”

“What subject?”

“You. Now I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you all about the Roosevelt riot, if you tell me something honest about yourself. Like, uh, this brother you're road tripping with. How do you feel about him?”

Fuck. Sam really didn't want to talk about this. About Dean. But he needed the information. He could lie. He should lie.

“This is confidential, yeah?”

“Of course. Feel free to tell me anything?”

Sam opened his mouth to lie, and out spilled the truth. “He's in love with me,” Sam confessed.

“And how do you feel?”

“Trapped. Confused. Conflicted. Angry.”

“Okay. Why do you feel conflicted? Where is the conflict coming from?”

“I don't want to hurt him. I love him, but not like that. And then I find out he's been in love with me for years.”

“Sam, it's okay if you don't return his feelings. You don't owe him a romantic relationship because he's in love with you. That's your own choice. You feelings and choices are just as important as his.”

Sam nodded. He knew that. But it still felt like he owed him everything. Like he was being selfish.

Dr. Ellicott leaned forward in his chair. “You know what he wants from you. What do you need from him?”

“Time and space. And...autonomy.”

“Do you feel like you lack control?”

“Yes,” Sam said. “I feel like our father is still making all of the decisions, and we're just supposed to follow blindly. Dean accepts that.”

“But not you.”

“No. His decisions affect my life too. I should be able to make decisions about my own life.”

“And how does Dean fit in to this?”

“It feels like he's made this decision for me too. I know it's irrational. He hasn't said anything to me, but I still feel suffocated. Pressured. Like this is one more decision out of my hands.”

“You do have choices, Sam. You can decide not to choose Dean. You can decide to walk away from your family. Ultimately, this is about what's best for you, and only you can decide that,” Dr. Ellicott told him.

 

After talking to Dr. Ellicott, Sam went out to meet Dean.

“Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?” Dean asked.

“Just the hospital, you know,” Sam answered.

“And?”

“And the south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane.”

“Sounds cozy,” Dean responded.

“Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other.”

“So the patients took over the asylum?”

“Apparently.”

“Any deaths?”

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott.

“Whaddaya mean, never recovered?” Dean asked.

“Cops scoured every inch of the place but I guess the patients must've...stuffed the bodies somewhere hidden.”

“That's grim.”

“Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down.”

“So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies.”

“And a bunch of angry spirits,” Sam put in.

“Good times. Let's check out the hospital tonight.”

 

At the asylum, Sam was happy to get Dean alone. This case had seemed worse than the others. It was like Dean just expected him to follow his orders. And Sam was tired of it. He was done.

Before he knew it, he was holding a rifle on his brother. All he wanted was to shut Dean's mouth for once. To have his own say. To be his own person, without letting himself get all tangled up in Dean. He wanted to remove Dean from his body, remove his more than brotherly love from his mind. Like a piece of glass, it had to be removed before it poisoned him. It was a foreign object, it didn't belong in Sam.

Sam shot Dean with the rock salt. Dean fell back through the door. There was no guilt in Sam, only justice. Dean deserved this. Always expecting his orders to be followed like he followed their dad's. Blindly, without question.

“Sam!” Dean called.

Sam went to stand over him. He finally had power over Dean.

“We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal,” Dean said to him.

“Normal? Like you, you mean? A good little soldier that follows Dad's orders? A man in love with his own brother? No thanks.”

Dean went still, his eyes on Sam's face. “What?”

“You heard me. I know all about your incestuous feelings. The skinwalker was all too happy to fill me in. It makes me want to puke, big brother.”

“This is isn't you talking, Sam,” Dean's voice was sure, steady, but Sam could hear the desperation behind it. The fear.

“That's the difference between you and me. I speak my mind. I'm not pathetic, like you.”

“So, what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me?”

“Maybe. Maybe it would be better for you. Better for me. Better for everyone if you were gone. I'd be free. So would you. No more unrequited feelings for little brother, huh? Wouldn't that be a relief?” Sam asked.

“Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you,” Dean held out his gun toward Sam. “Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt.”

Sam hesitated. He wasn't sure whether he actually wanted to kill Dean. He just wanted him out of his life.

“Take it!” Dean insisted.

Sam took the gun, and pointed it at Dean's face.

“You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother?”

“Why not? You want to fuck yours,” Sam responded.

“Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!” Dean goaded him.

Sam pulled the trigger. It didn't fire. He tried again, and again. Then he felt Dean's fist, and Sam fell to the ground. Then Dean was above him, mirroring Sam's position from before.

“Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol,” Dean said. Sam stared at him, before he felt Dean's fist hit his face again, and then he felt nothing at all.

When Sam woke up, he felt more like himself. Clear-headed. Aware.

Dean was looking at him. “You're not going to try to kill me, are you?” he asked.

“No,” Sam responded.

“Good. Because that would be awkward.”

 

After they said goodbye to the kids they had rescued, Sam knew that he had to make things right with Dean.

“Hey, Dean?”

Dean turned to look at him.

“I don't really remember everything, but I'm sorry. For anything I might have said or done.”

“You don't remember, huh?”

“No,” Sam lied.

Dean looked at him for a moment, before he nodded. But he was silent, broody.

“Do we need to talk about this?” Sam asked, knowing what Dean's response would be.

“No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.”

They climbed in the Impala, and Dean drove off while Sam stared out the passenger side window. There was silence between them.  
  



	9. Choosing Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of dialogue from "Scarecrow." Sorry about that. This chapter might seem boring and possibly a little repetitive, but I promise we're moving forward. In fact, we should have a major turning point for our boys coming up in a couple of chapters. Also, I'm sorry that I skipped list week but I needed to take a few days off for mental health reasons. I hope you're all doing well.

_Alphas, Betas, and Omegas are recognized by their scent. Alphas emit a smell like musk, similar to male deer, that is unique to that alpha. Omegas also have their own unique scent, but most of the time it is similar to spice such as cinnamon or ginger. Betas are unique in the sense that they have no scent. It is thought that because Betas are infertile that they need no smell to attract mates. However, Betas can buy perfumes that smell like musk or spice, so therefore they are able to pass as Alphas or Omegas, at least superficially.- Taylor's Guide to Genders and Gender Identity in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas._

 

Things were tense between Sam and Dean. When they talked, they talked about hunts, whose turn it was to go get food, what to watch on T.V. Mostly they didn't talk. They sat in silence in the Impala, they did their own separate research. When Sam got back from the library, Dean was gone. He assumed it was to a bar, maybe to interview witnesses. Dean sometimes told him, sometimes he didn't. Sam never asked.

Their father's phone call that morning hadn't made things easier. Sam was angry. But that wasn't anything new. It seemed like he was always angry. He decided to talk to Dean about the one thing they could talk about. The case. The hunt. Maybe he and Dean could become a unit again. Maybe they could find their father, and put things to rest. Sam had to try.

“Alright, so, the names Dad gave us, they're all couples?” Sam asked.

“Three different couples. All went missing,” Dean responded.

“And they're all from different towns? Different states? Were they alpha and omega pairs?”

“That's right. They were from different states. You got Washington, New York, Colorado. Not all alpha omega pairs, though. One was beta and alpha. Another was omega and omega. But each couple took a road trip cross-country. None of them arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again.”

“Well, it's a big country, Dean. They could've disappeared anywhere.”

“Yeah, could've. But each one's route took 'em to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another.”

“This is the second week of April.”

“Yep.”

“So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?”

“Yahtzee. I thought maybe we could pose as a couple. See if whatever it is takes the bait.”

“Of course,” Sam mutters under his breath.

“What?” Dean asked with nonchalance but Sam saw his jaw clench.

“Nothing.”

After a few seconds of silence Dean started to fill it. “Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through? The man's a master.”

Sam pulled over. He couldn't take this anymore.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“We're not going to Indiana.”

“We're not?”

“No. We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone. Sacramento area code.”

“Sam.”

“Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess, and Dad's closing in, we've gotta be there. We've gotta help.”

“Dad doesn't want our help.”

“I don't care.”

“He's given us an order. He's our alpha.”

“I don't care. We don't always have to do what he says.”

“Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives. It's important.”

“Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I can't do this right now. I can't play happy couple with you. Not when Jess is dead. Not when she's in the ground. Not when...” Sam trailed off. Not when you're in love with me he finished in his head.

“Alright, look, I know how you feel.”

“Do you? How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?”

Dean turned his head toward the window. Sam saw him take a deep breath, close his eyes. And then he turned back to Sam. “That's a conversation for another day. The point is, it's not safe. That's what Dad says. And he's not here to take the position of your alpha. I am. It's my job to keep you safe.”

“Except your not my alpha, Dean! You never have been! Dad is. And I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man. I mean, it's like you don't even question him.”

“Yeah, it's called being a good son!”

And that's it for Sam. He gets out of the car, opens the trunk, and pulls out his bag.

“You're a selfish bastard, you know that? Don't care what anybody else thinks. Don't care when I try to protect you.”

“That's what you really think?” Sam asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California,” Sam said as he shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders. He turned around and started walking away.

“Come on, you're not serious.”

“I am serious.”

“It's the middle of the night! Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?”

Sam stopped, and turned. “That's what I want you to do.”

“Fine. I'm not a real alpha anyway, right? And definitely not yours. Goodbye, Sam.”

Sam watched him close the trunk, get in the car, and drive away. And despite it all, Sam felt his stomach sink. He hadn't even looked back before driving away.

 

Sam met a girl at the bus station. She said her name was Meg. And she seemed to be running away from something. He saw the similarities. Because while he was running towards his father, towards his vengeance, he was also running away from his brother.

He was struggling with Dean's feelings. With Dean expectations. He wanted Dean in his life, but not the way Dean wanted him. He wanted him as a brother. But not at the cost of losing out on avenging Jess. Not at the cost of peace. Because that's what it would be. If he stayed with Dean, he was choosing chaos, choosing the hunt. If he found his dad, pursued the thing that killed Jess, he was choosing peace in the end. Because once he had killed the thing that had taken Jess from him, taken his mother from him, taken his normal childhood from him, that would be the end.

But, hunting would never end. There was always another monster. And Dean would always wanna pursue it.

 

Sam was sitting in the bus station when his phone rang. Dean. He answered. He would always answer Dean. “Hey,” he muttered into the phone quietly, so he didn't wake up Meg.

“Hey,” Dean said.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“How are things going?” Sam asked. A peace offering to get the conversation started.

“Things are weird, man.”

“Things are always weird.”

“True. But this is weird even for us. Or uh, me,” Dean stuttered.

Sam pretended like he hadn't noticed the slip. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

So, Dean did. He told him about the case, about how he wasn't getting anywhere with the locals, how evil scarecrows just decided to walk around on their own unassisted.

“The scarecrow climbed off its cross?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I'm tellin' ya. Burkitsville, Indiana. Fun town.”

“It didn't kill the couple, did it?”

“No. I can cope without you, you know.”

“So, something must be animating it. A spirit.”

“No, it's more than a spirit. It's a god. A Pagan god, anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The annual cycling of its killings? And the fact that the victims are always a couple. And you should see the locals. The way they treated this couple. Fattening them up like a Christmas turkey.”

“The last meal. Given to sacrificial victims.”

“Yeah. I'm thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god.”

“So, a god possesses the scarecrow...”

“And the scarecrow takes its sacrifice. And for another year, the crops won't wilt, and disease won't spread.”

“Do you know which god you're dealing with?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, you figure out what it is, you can figure out a way to kill it.”

“I know. I'm actually on my way to a local community college. I've got an appointment with a professor. You know, since I don't have my trusty sidekick geek boy to do all the research.”

“You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask,” Sam teased.

“I'm not hinting anything. Actually, uh- I want you to know...I mean, don't think...”

“Yeah. I'm sorry too.”

“Sam. You were right. I'm not your alpha,” Dean said, then paused before he continued. “Or your mate.”

“Dean-”

“No. I can't protect you forever. You're your own person. It's time for me to realize that. You gotta live your own life.”

“Are you serious?”

“You've always known what you want. And you go after it. You stand up to Dad. And you always have. Hell, I wish I-anyway, I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy.”

“I don't even know what to say.”

“Say you'll be careful. That you'll take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

“Call me when you find Dad.”

“Ok. Bye, Dean,” Sam replied. And then he hung up. Dean had respected his choices. It was the best outcome he could have asked for. It was what he wanted. But why did he feel so empty?

Meg stirred awake, and came over to where Sam was.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“My brother,” Sam said.

“What'd he say?”

“Goodbye.”

 

Sam had to leave. He couldn't get on the bus, when Dean wasn't answering his phone. He left Meg behind and went to find a car in the parking lot of the bus station.

He looked around for a minute and then he spotted the perfect one. It was black, average. A Ford Focus. An older model. Nothing that would draw attention.

Sam approached the car. He checked first to see if the door was unlocked. Nope. He peered into the car. Nice. Manual locks. Which mean he could use the slim jim he kept in his bag. Always better to be prepared.

He unlocked the car on the first try. He had always been good at breaking into things. Even better than Dean. Now all he had to do was hotwire it.

He slid into the car. The cloth interior smelled like sweat, cloves, and Doritos. Sam wrinkled his nose.

He made quick work of getting the cover on the steering column off. He pulled out the bundle of wires he needed, and started stripping the wires he needed to strip. He glanced up every now and then to make sure that no one was paying attention to him. Finally he got the wires connected that he needed. Then, he went to work on stripping the last wire that he needed, and touched the end of it to the wires he had connected.

The car purred to life. Sam revved the engine a few times, and then turned the wheel hard to either side in order to break the steering lock. He drove off the lot. Towards Dean. He had a brother to rescue.

 

Sam saw Dean. He was tied to a tree with a young girl. His heart slowed down. He was calmer, more assured. All it took was seeing Dean unharmed. Sam approached them.

“Dean?” he called.

“Oh! Oh, I take back everything I said. I'm so happy to see you. Come on.”

Sam began to untie Dean from the tree.

“How'd you get here?” Dean asked.

“I, uh-I stole a car,” Sam answered.

Dean laughed. “That's my boy! And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any second.”

Sam ignored the burst of warmth in his chest from Dean's laugh, from Dean's approval. My boy. And then he noticed something odd.

“What scarecrow?” Sam asked.

 

After they had burned the tree, and put Emily on a bus, Sam and Dean stood around staring at each other.

“So, can I drop you off somewhere?” Dean asked.

“No, I think you're stuck with me,” Sam responded.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn't. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass. But, Jess and Mom-they're both gone. Dad is God knows where. You and me. We're all that's left. So, if gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together.”

Dean was quiet for a moment. “Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful,” he said as he put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam laughed but he knew that Dean was serious. But it was buried. And they wouldn't talk about it. Because Sam had chosen, and he had chosen Dean. He had chosen his brother. Just like he had chosen Jess. And that's all there was to say.


	10. Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Faith." Trigger warning for this chapter: thoughts of suicide. Proceed carefully. If you are unable to read this chapter, just scroll down to the comments, let me know, and I'll give you a quick summary. That being said, I hope all my United States readers had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

_While it is a myth that if one soulmate dies the other one dies as well, it is true that the other is left devastated. For example, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert were known soulmates in history. When her husband died, the Queen did not appear in public for three years, and she continued to wear black, which showed her still in mourning, until her own death many years later. It is not know whether it is possible to move past a soulmate's death, since no one seems to have done so in recorded history.- Soulmates: A History_

 

Sam was pacing in the waiting room. Dean had been electrocuted, and Sam was waiting in a hospital. Fuck. A hospital. They never went to hospitals unless there was no other option. And there hadn't been. Sam wanted to pray. It felt like the right time to pray. But all he could do was pace. All he could do was run his hands through his hair over and over again. All he could do was wait.

Sam saw the doctor. He walked over to him.

“Hey, Doc. Is he...” Sam trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“He's resting.”

“And?” Sam questioned, a little impatient.

“The electrocution triggered a heart attack. Pretty massive, I'm afraid. His heart...it's damaged.”

“How damaged?”

“We've done all we can. We can try and keep him comfortable at this point. But, I'd give him a couple weeks, at most, maybe a month.”

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. “No, no. There's...gotta be something you can do, some kind of treatment.”

“We can't work miracles. I really am sorry.”

Sam didn't accept what the doctor told him. Dean was going to live. Sam was determined to save him. He would do for him what he couldn't do for Jess, and maybe he would find a little peace in that. If Dean needed a miracle, Sam was going to deliver one.

 

Sam hadn't been surprised when Dean had found him at the motel. He knew that he probably wouldn't remain in the hospital. Dean would have seen it as dying on his terms. Sam would have made the same choice. And Sam wanted to save him more than anything. He had to save Dean. But he knew that he was technically dying. That he didn't have long. He paused in his research for a minute to check on Dean. He was passed out on his bed.

Now that Dean was dying, Sam let himself look at him. Just in case it was the last time. Just in case he failed Dean like he had failed Jess. His gaze took in Dean's shirtless sleeping form on the motel bed. He let it linger on Dean's freckled shoulders before it skimmed down to his chest. The first thing he noticed was the mark. Sam's mark. Proof that Dean was his soulmate. He let his eyes trace the black lines that formed the star as he traced the same pattern on his own chest with his fingers.

Dean snored, and Sam's eyes jumped up to his face. He eyes were still closed. Sam went back to looking at him. Below his mark was smooth skin that went down to his nipples. His dark, small nipples. Sam wondered what would happen if his hands skimmed over them, if he flicked them back and forth. Would it feel good to Dean? Did he like having his nipples played with? Sam felt his pants tighten a bit.

Sam continued down Dean's body. He looked at the slight definition of his abs. The way they went down to his belly button. Sam thought maybe he would like to know what Dean's bellybutton tasted like. He could dip his tongue inside after he had been running after some monster, and find out how his sweat tasted. Salty, probably. There was a trail of hair underneath. Sam thought it looked soft and fuzzy. He wanted to bury his nose in it, and inhale. Breathe in Dean's scent. Despite what the experts said, Sam was sure Dean would have one. His own unique smell that would remind Sam of long, summer days in the Impala, with Dean in the front seat and him in the back. When it was hot, and the leather seats of the car would stick to the back of Sam's bare thighs.

Maybe that's what Dean smelled like. Like the leather of the Impala.

The sheets on the bed were pulled up to Dean's hips, limiting Sam's view of anything beyond. Sam was hard in his jeans. It seemed like he was attracted to his brother after all. How had he missed it? Was it always there? Was it because of the mark? He didn't know. But he did know that it felt like a betrayal to Jess. He did know that he should be ashamed. And he was.

 

Sam had found something. A faith healer, and despite dean's skepticism they were going. Sam refused to leave any stone unturned when it came to saving his brother.

 

Sam double checked his findings and got the same result. The obits were clear enough. Marshall Hall was dead because Dean was healed. Sam had caused that. Sam was responsible for the death of Marshall Hall. And the worst part of it was, was that he'd do it again. He would sacrifice someone's life so that Dean could live. Jesus, that was so fucked up. He was a goddamn monster.

Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. Maybe it was the soulmate thing. Maybe he was compelled to save Dean. Maybe everything lately he had been feeling was because of his mark. Dean's mark. It didn't matter anyway. Whether it was the soulmate mark or just Sam, Sam couldn't change this part of himself. He was a bad person. A freak. Someone that didn't deserve Dean. Because if Sam was sure of something it was that Dean would be sorry if he had been responsible for someone's death, and all Sam felt was relief.

When Dean came in and Sam told him the news he seemed to echo Sam's thoughts about himself.

“You never should have brought me here,” Dean told Sam.

Sam tried to justify his actions. “Dean, I was just trying to save your life.”

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam responded. But would Sam have made a different decision if he had known? And the horrible answer was, he didn't know.

 

In, the end they solved the case, and put it to rest. But they didn't save the girl. Sam knew Dean felt conflicted about that. He was broody afterward, in their motel room.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

Nothing,” Dean responded.

Sam didn't say anything for a minute. “What is it?” he asked again.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?”

“Of course we did.”

“It doesn't feel like it.”

Sam didn't know what to say to that. He didn't do the right thing. He had picked Dean over an innocent life. But Dean had done the right thing. He always would.

There was a knock on the door. Layla. Sam answered it.

“Hey Layla. Come on in.”

“How did you know we were here?” Dean asked her.

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye.”

Sam looked at Dean. “I'm gonna...grab a soda,” he said and left the room. As he closed the door behind him, he hoped that Dean was able to find some closure.

 

In the end, Layla gave up her chance at life so that others could live. Sam and Dean drove away from the town. Sam could see their motel getting smaller out of the side mirror. He wished he could put his demons so easily behind him.

Dean had called him a selfish bastard not too long ago. Sam had been angry, and a little hurt. But now he was resigned. He was selfish. He put Dean in front of innocent lives. How could he forgive himself for that?

Maybe, in the end, it had nothing to do with Dean. Sam had felt the need to play hero. Since he failed to save Jess, he used any means necessary to save Dean. He had wanted to prove that he was capable, that he was worthy. Instead, he had proved the opposite. He had proved that not even a year after Jess's death, he was willing to betray her with his brother. He had gotten hard for his brother. He also proved that he was a monster, just like the ones that his family hunted. Sam wondered if the world be a better place without him in it. If he was culled out. If he was extinguished. He wondered if Dean still loved him. How could he? How could anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent about half an hour studying Jensen's naked chest for this chapter. The hardships I will endure for y'all are endless. :)


	11. It's not Easy Being Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Route 666." The quote at the beginning is not mine, and the title comes from Kermit the frog. Enjoy!

_The lovesick, the betrayed, and the jealous all smell alike. - Sidonie Gabrielle Colette_

 

Sam was in the Impala with Dean on their way to not Pennsylvania. To a woman he called “an old friend.”

“By old friend you mean...?” Sam trailed off, waiting for Dean to fill in the blanks.

“A friend that's not new,” Dean answered.

“Oh yeah, thanks. So her name's Cassie huh? You never mentioned her.”

“Didn't I?”

Sam was silent. He knew that Dean would tell him eventually.

“Yeah, we went out,” Dean said.

“You mean you dated somebody? For more than one night.”

“Am I speaking a language you're not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a couple of weeks.”

“And?” Sam pressed.

Dean didn't respond.

“Look, it's terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I'm not seeing how it fits with what we do. Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean was still being silent. And then it clicked for Sam.

“You told her. You told her, the secret. Our big family number one rule. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half I do nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a couple of times and you tell her everything?” Sam accused. He felt gutted. He felt betrayed. He knew that he had no right to feel this way. No right to Dean. No right to feel hurt. But he felt hurt all the same.

“Dean!” Sam snapped.

“Yeah. Looks like,” Dean finally said.

Sam fell silent. He was angry. He had not told Jessica, the woman he wanted to be mated to, about the family business. But Dean had told someone. Told some woman that he'd had fucked for a couple of weeks. Told someone when he had told Sam over and over never to tell. It was only for family to know. Who was this woman to Dean?

 

Sam met Cassie. They got some details of the case. And Sam had made a decision. It was obvious there was still something between Cassie and Dean. And God knew Dean deserved some happiness in life. Sam decided to let Dean know that it was okay. That being with Cassie was okay. Maybe if he pushed Dean toward Cassie it would make up for some of the things he had done. Sam was pretty sure that there was no saving his soul, but he could make sure his brother was happy. He could give his blessing and not fuck this up for Dean.

So he started the conversation he needed to have. “I'll say this for her, she's fearless.”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean responded.

“Bet she kicked your ass a couple of times.”

Dean didn't say anything. Sam kicked it up a notch.

“What's interesting is you guys never really look at each other at the same time. You look at her when she's not looking, she checks you out when you look away,” Sam forced a smile. “It's just an interesting observation in a, you know, observationally interesting way.”

“You think we might have more pressing issues here?” Dean asked.

“Hey, if I'm hitting a nerve.”

“Let's go,” Dean said as he turned away and walked out the door.

Sam laughed, but it didn't feel real. Sam was sure that that Dean was thinking about it. Good. Dean deserved this. And if Sam wasn't happy so what? He didn't matter.

 

After they had completed their interviews, Sam resumed his mission.

“Go talk to her. About the case,” Sam urged.

“Yeah, I will,” Dean stated.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The serious, unfinished business.”

Dean was silent. Sam pushed on.

“Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Okay, a lot more. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn't have.”

Sam silently agreed. “Ah look man, everybody's gotta open up to someone sometime.”

“Yeah, I don't. It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

Sam smiled, sort of.

“Would you stop!” Dean snapped.

No. No, he wouldn't stop. Dean needed this, and Sam would make sure he got it.

“You loved her,” Sam said.

“Oh God.”

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her.”

Dean fidgeted, not saying anything.

“'Oh wow. She dumped you.”

Sam couldn't imagine someone dumping Dean. Everyone loved Dean. Everyone wanted a taste of him. They didn't talk about it anymore, and just got in the car.

Dean dropped Sam off the motel before he went to question Cassie. Sam watched him drive away and knew that he wouldn't be back. He would come in the room in the morning smelling of sex, with a cocky smile on his face. But he wouldn't smell like her at least, because she was a Beta. She wouldn't leave her scent on his skin. And Sam was thankful for that.

He went in the room and stripped. Might as well leave his shirt off. Dean wasn't there to see his mark and wouldn't be. Sam went to bed. Maybe he would be able to rest tonight. Now that Dean was happy, would be happy, he would finally be able to sleep.

 

Sam dreamed of Jess. They were in bed together, legs tangled, fingers entwined.

“Hey,” he smiled at her.

“Hey,” she said.

“I miss you.”

She said nothing. She just smiled at him.

“I'm sorry,” Sam told her. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

“Shh,” she whispered. She put her fingers up against his lips, silencing him. Sam leaned into them. Desperate for her skin against his.

“You did the right thing, baby. For once in your life, you did the right thing.”

Sam was confused. “What?”

“Letting Dean go. Not that he wants you anymore.”

“I don't-”

“I said shh, Sammy,” Jess interrupted. “You don't deserve him. You're a killer. A monster.”

Sam shook his head.

Jess laughed. “Should I tally up the body count? There's me, the man you killed for Dean, and someone else. Now, who was that? Oh yes, your mother.”

Sam tried to protest, only he found he was unable to open his mouth.

“She died in your nursery, baby. She died tending to you. You should have died. But even as baby you were selfish, Sammy. Always so selfish.”

Sam shook his head again. Shook his head until his head hurt. Until everything became a blur. Then, Jess became clear. And her face was covered in burns.

“You'll never save anyone. The world would be better off with you,” Jess crooned. Her burned hands moved to cradle his face. Sam jerked awake.  
Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at Sam. Sam ran his hand down his face, trying to get rid of the dream.

“Way to be creepy Dean. What are you doing here, anyway? Thought you'd be out all night with Cassie.”

Sam reached down and absently scratched at his chest. And then stopped, and looked down at it. His bare chest. His mark was uncovered, on display for Dean to see. Sam looked up and met Dean's eyes, his mouth already open to stutter over an explanation when Dean cut him off.

“What the fuck, Sam?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger, but we have reached a turning point for our boys! Told y'all I had a plan.


	12. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! This is a short chapter but it gets the point across. I'm going to try to post next week, but if I don't get to it, I'll see y'all in January. I hope everybody has happy holidays. Enjoy!

_Infidelity is practically unheard of among soulmates. The percentage of mates who have admitted to being unfaithful in some capacity, whether physically or emotionally is around 30%. While admittedly there is not as much data concerning soulmates, due to their rarity, the percentage of soulmates who have admitted to infidelity is 0.2%. - Soulmates: A History_

 

“What the fuck, Sam?”

“I...I can explain-” Sam started to say. His hand splayed over the mark, trying to hide it from his brother.

“I've already seen it. No use covering it up now.”

Sam's hand fell to the sheet. He gripped it in fist, trying to ground himself.

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“I wasn't ready.”

“You weren't ready? What about me? Did you think about that? I had the right to know.”

“I know,” Sam muttered.

“You let me sleep with her. You have my mark on your chest, and you let me fuck someone else.”

“Dean-”

“Shut up. I was out fucking someone else. And you let me. Encouraged me, even. That's not even the worst part.”

Sam looked down, he didn't want to meet his brother's eyes.

“The worst part is that you have been lying to me for months. Months, Sam,” Dean said harshly. And then he stopped. Went quiet. Squinted. “But it wasn't months, was it Sammy? It was goddamn years. Ever since you first got that mark.”

“You and Dad had cut me off. I didn't know if I was ever gonna see you again. I made a choice. You can't pin that on me.”

Dean nodded, his jaw tense. “Yeah, maybe. But you've been back with me for a while now. Plenty of time to say something.”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“I don't know. How about, hey big brother you wanna hear something funny.”

“I needed time, Dean. I needed to make my own choice.”

“You don't think I would have given you that? Jesus, I know you need time, your girlfriend just died. And choice? You don't think I understand that? I was in love with you for years, Sammy. I had no idea you were my soulmate. No idea. But I chose you. I loved you. But you knew that, didn't you?”

Sam shook his head, denying the past tense not the accusation.

“Answer the goddamn question, Sam!”

“Yeah. Yeah. I knew.”

“How long?”

“Since the skinwalker.”

“Something else you lied about. It seems like all you do is fucking lie.”

“I wasn't ready.”

“You weren't ready? To what? To tell the truth?”

“It wasn't like that.”

“That's hilarious, Sam. Because from where I'm sitting that's exactly what it was like.”

Dean got up, and started pacing around the room.

“I was so stupid. I thought we were reconnecting, man. Becoming brothers again. I could accept you didn't feel about me like I felt about you. It sucked, but I could suck it up. But this-” he broke off, and gestured to Sam's chest.

“Dean-”

“Shut up!” Dean yelled.

Sam went silent.

“I fucked Cassie. I fucked her, and then I couldn't stay. Couldn't give her what she wanted. So I came back to you. Because that's what I do. I come back to you. I should've stayed with her.”

Sam flinched. “Dean, I-” Sam took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Dean. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, well. You know what they say about good intentions,” Dean muttered. And he walked out the door. Back to Cassie, perhaps.

Sam sat alone in the motel room and never felt more like a failure.

 

Dean hadn't come back to the motel room. Sam had stayed awake all night waiting. All he had gotten was a tense phone call when dean had told him to meet him at a crime scene. So that's what Sam had done. And they worked the case.

They didn't talk. They saved the day, saved the girl. Just like they always did. They were professional. Kept their personal shit out of it. Locked it up inside them where it belonged. Sam had never felt so empty. And now, here they were. At the obligatory goodbye scene, where they rode off into the sunset, but nobody ever got the girl.

Sam got in the car, and waited for Dean. He was talking to Cassie. Sam watched them and ached. Because despite everything, he wanted Dean to be happy. He didn't care who was making him happy, even if it made Sam unhappy. But as he watched Cassie lean in for a kiss, he saw Dean pull away and extend his hand instead. Sam had fucked this up as well, then.

Dean got into the driver's side.

“I really am sorry, Dean.”

“I can't talk about this now, Sam,” Dean sighed.

“But-”

“I'm not kidding. I'm not talking about this.”

Sam nodded. There was silence for a few seconds.

“I just-”

“Sam! Months of lies. Months. That's if you don't count the time in between. I can barely look at you right now. How do you think I feel knowing I can't even trust my own brother?”

Sam wasn't able to say anything.

“Just don't bother me right now, Sam. Okay?”

Sam nodded again. And this time he remained silent.

 


	13. Depression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Nightmare." Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts. I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays! So, sorry to tell y'all this, but from now this story will be updated twice a month instead of four times a month. Of course, lately I've been posting erratically anyway, so you might not even notice a difference. :) Quote is not mine obviously.

"Of pain you could wish only one thing: that it should stop." - George Orwell

 

Dean didn't touch him anymore. It wasn't until it was no longer there that Sam realized how often it happened. Little pats on the back when the research went well. An arm tossed across his shoulders when they were watching the game. Shoves and pokes when he was making fun of him.

Dean didn't touch him anymore. And Sam was dying inside. But he let Dean set the terms. He no longer touched Dean in return.

They hadn't had a case in a few days. Sam was restless. Impatient. He tried not to let Dean know. Sometimes he dreamed about Jess. Sometimes he dreamed about Dean. Tonight he dreamed about death.

There was a man in a garage, his engine off. He lived in Michigan according to his license plate. The garage door started to close by itself. His car locks engaged. He couldn't open the doors. The engine wouldn't shut off. The radio started to play.

“Help! Somebody help me!” The man called.

No one answered. No one helped. The garage filled up with smoke.

Sam jerked awake. He looked over to where Dean was sleeping in the next bed. He hesitated, unsure. But then he decided to act.

“Dean,” he called.

Dean moved a little, and then his eyes blinked open.

“What?” he asked, irritated.

“We have to go,” Sam informed him.

“Why?”

“We have to go,” Sam repeated. “Right now.”

Sam grabbed his bag and left, waiting for Dean to catch up with him by the Impala.

 

They worked the case. No matter what was between them, this was consistent. They always worked the case. Sam researched when Dean was on site. It was like a dance between them. Even we they were mad at each other, didn't trust each other, they didn't falter in their steps.

Sam decided his research wasn't helping. It was time to go back to the motel. Back to Dean.

“What do you have?” Dean asked right when Sam walked in. Okay. Straight to business then. “A whole lotta nothing. Nothing bad has happened in the Miller house since it was built,” Sam responded.

“What about the land?”

Sam sat down on the bed. He was pretty sure he was getting a headache. “No grave yards, tribal lands, or any other kind of activity on or near the property.”

“Yeah, well, like I said before. No cold spots, sulfur scent, nada.”

“And the family said everything was normal?”

“Yep. No evidence of anything in that house.”

“So, what? You think Jim Miller killed himself and my dream was just some freakish coincidence?”

“I don't know, but I'm pretty sure there's nothing supernatural about that house.”

Sam massaged his temples. “Yeah. Well, maybe it has nothing to do with the house. Maybe it's just...gosh. Maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way.” Fuck. His head was pounding.

“What's wrong with you?” Dean asked hesitantly.

The pain became unbearable, and Sam sank to his knees beside the bed. “Ahh. My head,” he cried out.

“Sam?” Dean called.

Sam was vaguely aware of Dean's hands on his arms. He was touching him. The warmth of his hands was on Sam's skin. But then he didn't feel them anymore. He didn't see Dean anymore. He saw a man in a kitchen with groceries. Roger Miller. The window was open. Roger closed it. The window opened again. Roger tried to close it. The window was stuck. Roger tried to get it unstuck. The window closed. There was so much blood.

And then Dean was in front of him again. Touching him again. Concerned for him.

“It's happening again. Something's going to kill Roger Miller.”

Dean let go of his arms, and Sam mourned the loss.

 

After everything, it was the boy. Max. Max who had had such a hard life. Max who had made flawed decisions. Max the omega without an alpha he could trust. Sam wanted to save him. Help him. They went to confront him..

“You sure about this?” Dean asked him.

“Yeah, I saw him,” Sam responded.

“How's he pulling it off?”

“I don't know, like telekinesis?”

“What so he's psychic?”

“I didn't even realize it but this whole time, he was there. He was outside the garage when his Dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died. These visions, this whole time-I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max! Because we're alike.”

“I guess,” Dean mumbled.

“C'mon, Dean. He has telekinesis. I have death visions.”

“Max is a monster, he's already killed two people, now he's gunning for a third.”

And all Sam heard was that he was a monster. “What about the beatings?”

“Murder still isn't justified, Sam. He's just another monster. We gotta end him.”

“No.”

“Sam.”

“No. I can talk to him. Get through to him.”

“Well, when you fail, I'll need this,” Dean took out his gun from the glove compartment.

 

It hadn't gone well. Max was dead. Sam, as Dean had predicted, had failed.

He couldn't help but see himself in Max. Max was alone, scared, unloved by his family. Sam knew that his father and Dean loved him. But, for a time, he had also been alone and scared. Had been told never to come back, while Dean had been silent and stoic. He remembered getting on the bus, his hands shaking. He had been without an alpha, without a protector. It took him a long time to discover he didn't need an alpha. That he could be his own protector.

Max was an omega too. Max's alpha had failed him. Had hurt him. And Max had discovered that he didn't need protection. Just like Sam had. And then there was the powers. And the circumstances around the fire in their nurseries.

Max hadn't been a monster. He was Sam. Or maybe Sam was Max. He could have easily gone that way if it hadn't been for his Dad and Dean. When he closed his eyes, he saw Max's blood splatter on the walls. Another person he had failed. It seemed like they were piling up. Jess, the man who died so Dean could live, Dean, and now Max. Maybe Max had had the right idea. take yourself out before you hurt too many people. Get rid of bad rubbish. Sam had a job though. He had to avenge Jess. He had to try to settle things with Dean. And then maybe. Maybe it could all be over. Or maybe he would find something else to live for. Something to drive him. Some other mission to undertake. Sam wasn't sure. He could only take it moment by moment. Now that he was through one second, he could make it through one more. It hurt to breathe sometimes. Like a piece of glass was trapped in his chest, pressed in on his lungs. But he could inhale and exhale, he could sleep and wake, he could get up and get dressed for Jess, for Dean. And Sam hoped maybe eventually, for himself.

Meanwhile, Dean was still silent. Still lashed out in little ways. The only thing Sam could do was move forward, with Dean's resentment as his companion.

Sam told himself all this as he and Dean headed toward the next case, with what seemed like miles of leather seats between them.


	14. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "The Benders."

_"Most omegas tend to be shorter in height than alphas, though this is not always true. For example, it might surprise people to learn that Julia Child (6'2") was an omega. Betas can be tall or short, there is no standard of height for them. - Taylor's Guide to Genders and Gender Identity in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas._

 

They interviewed the witness, and afterward they returned to the Impala.

“So, what do you think?” Sam asked Dean.

“I think I need a drink,” Dean responded.

“Dean, I don't think-”

“Don't really care what you think right now, Sam. Unless it's about the case. Now, I'm gonna drive to a bar because I need a fucking drink. You can stay in the car if you want.”

Sam didn't say anything else on the way to the bar, but he also didn't stay in the car.

“Local police have now ruled out foul play. Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle,” Sam informed Dean while they were drinking.

“Well, they could be right, it could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn't our kind of gig.”

“Yeah, maybe not. Except for this- Dad marked the area, Dean. Possible hunting grounds for a phantom hunting ground.”

Dean held out his hand for the journal, which Sam passed him. “Why would he even do that?”

“Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night. Grabs people, then vanishes,” Sam gestured for the journal, and Dean handed it to him. “He found this too, this county has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in the state.”

“That is weird.”

“Yeah.”

“Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot.”

“Well, there are other kinds. You know, Spring Heeled Jacks, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere, anytime. Look Dean, I don't know if this is our kind of gig either.”

“Yeah. We should ask around tomorrow.”

“Right,” Sam agreed. “I saw a motel about five miles back.”

“Okay. I'm gonna stay here, have another drink. You can go out to the car of you want.”

Sam knew a dismissal when he heard one. “Fine,” he muttered. He put a few dollars on the table, and went back to the car.

Sam heard a noise when he got to the car. He paused, and took out a flashlight out of his pocket. He used it to look underneath the car, where there was a cat staring at him in the darkness. It hissed at him and ran off. Sam laughed, shaking his head. Just a cat. Nothing to be afraid of. He felt a pinch in his ankle, like a bee sting. It startled him, and he kicked out a bit. His boot connected with something soft. That's a big bee he thought, before everything went black.

 

Sam woke up in a cage. He was woozy, still not aware. Drugged. He must have been drugged. He looked around, taking note of his surroundings. There was a cage next to him with a man it. He was asleep. Sam assumed it was probably the man that had gone missing. The man that had been taken. What was his name again? Sam shook his head to clear it, and his vision blurred. Right. Drugged.

He wondered how long he had been there. If Dean was searching for him. Wondered if maybe Dean was glad to be rid of him. He put his head in his hands, and took deep breaths. Breathed in. Breathed out. Slow, measured. It was fine. He could do this. He could help the man at least.

What was his name? Something to do with Scooby Doo. Ah yes, Jenkins, instead of jinkies. Even if Dean wasn't searching for him, Jenkins still needed help.

It seemed like the drugs were wearing off, but Sam was getting a headache. A headache that pounded at the base of his skull. Fuck. It was fine. Sam could deal. He crawled over to the front of his cage.

“Hey!” he called softly. Jenkins didn't stir. “Hey!” Sam said again, louder.

This time, Jenkins groaned a little, and his eyes blinked open.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked him.

“Does it look like I'm doing okay?” Jenkins asked.

“Where are we?”

“I don't know. The country, I think. Smells like the country.”

“You're Alvin Jenkins, aren't you?”

“Yeah.”

“I was lookin' for you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

“Well, no offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue.”

“Well, my brother's out there right now, too. He's lookin' for you,” Sam didn't say looking for us, because he wasn't sure. But he was pretty sure that Dean wouldn't let a civilian die if he could help it.

“So, he's not gonna find us. We're in the middle of nowhere. Waiting for them to come back and do God knows what to us.”

“What are they? Have you seen them?”

“What are you talking about?” Jenkins asked, seemingly confused.

“Whatever's got us. What'd they look like?”

“See for yourself,” Jenkins said just as the door to the building opened. Two men walked in. They were dressed in black. Sam thought they were Alphas. They carried themselves like Alphas anyway. Sam couldn't smell them, so he wasn't entirely sure. They looked like people. Like humans. Sam was pretty certain that's what they were. Just a couple of rednecks. Sam laughed to himself. Well, it looked like he was even more incompetent than he thought. He got taken down by humans. Dean would never have let himself get bested by humans.

“Leave me alone! Don't you take me, leave me alone!” Jenkins shouted. They were in his cage now. But it looked like they were just giving him a plate of food. They left the cage after putting the plate down.

“They're just people,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah. What'd you expect?”

Sam ignored the question. “How often do they feed you?”

“Once a day. And they use that thing there to open the cage,” Jenkins pointed to the panel.

“And that's the only time you see 'em?”

“So far. But I'm waitin'.”

“Waitin' for what?”

“Ned Beatty time, man.”

“I think that's the least of your worries right now.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think they want, then?”

“Depends on who they are.”

“They're a bunch of pyscho hillbilly redneck alphas, if you ask me. Lookin' for love in all the wrong places.”

“You're an alpha, yeah?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, man. I assume you are too. Hard to tell in here though. All I smell is shit.”

“No, I'm an omega,” Sam answered. “So, I'm pretty sure it's not about kidnapping alphas to have their way with them.”

“You're an omega?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty big, aren't you?”

Sam shrugged, disinterested. Jenkins fell silent, and Sam was relieved. The headache was starting to ease a bit, letting him think again. A group of humans had kidnapped him for unknown reasons. Sam could maybe fight them if he found a way out of the cage. But Sam felt lethargic, resigned. Not really up to saving himself.

He glanced over at Jenkins. He couldn't leave him to die. He had a family, people who loved him. Sam had to try at least. Sam looked around him, and spotted a wire hanging down from a pole. He started to tug on it. Maybe he could short something out, get the locks to open.

Jenkins looked over at him. “What's your name again?”

“It's Sam.”

“Why don't you give it up, Sammy, there's no way out.”

“Don't...call me...Sammy!” he groaned as he tore the coil down. A piece of metal fell on the floor along with it.

“What is it?” Jenkins asked.

Sam picked it up and studied it. “It's a bracket.”

“Well, thank God, a bracket. Now we've got 'em, huh?”

Sam heard a lock click, and turned to look at Jenkins. His cage had unlocked and popped open.

“Must've been short. Maybe you knocked somethin' loose,” Jenkins said as he climbed out of the cage.

Sam didn't trust it. “I think you should get back in there, Jenkins.”

“What?”

“This isn't right.”

“Don't you wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah. But that was too easy.”

“Look, I'm gonna get out of here, and I'm gonna send help, okay. Don't worry.”

“No, I'm serious. Jenkins, this might be a trap.”

“Bye, Sammy,” Jenkins replied, and then walked out the door.

“Jenkins!” Sam called. The cage slammed shut.

A little while later, Sam listened as Jenkins screamed. He curled up into himself, and pressed his face into his knees.

 

Sam watched as his captors dragged a woman inside, and put her in Jenkins's cage. She was passed out. He assumed she was drugged as he had been. She gradually came awake.

“You alright?” Sam asked her.

“Are you Sam Winchester?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Your, uh, cousin's looking for you.”

Dean. Dean was looking for him. Dean still cared about him. Sam took a breath, and blew it out. He nodded. “Thank God. Where is he?”

“I, uh, cuffed him to my car.”

Sam sighed. The door opened and a figure appeared. Sam tensed, waiting.

“Sam? Are you hurt?” Dean asked, as he came into view.

Sam couldn't help the smile that had spread over his face. “No.”

“Damn, it's good to see you,” Dean told him.

“I wasn't sure you would come,” Sam muttered, looking at the ground.

“Of course I was gonna come for you, Sam.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Hey, no chick flick moments. Let's figure a way to get you out of here.”

And, in the end, they rescued each other.

 

They started walking down the driveway. Dean was silent beside Sam. He looked down. Their boots were stirring up dust from the dry earth. Sam thought maybe if he was quick enough he could catch a handful. Could gather it, pack it, turn it back into solid earth.

“Never do that again,” Dean said.

“What?” Sam asked.

“I said, never go missing like that again.”

Sam looked over at Dean. His face was serious. “Were you...” Sam paused, then went on. “Were you worried about me?”

Dean turned his head toward Sam, and met his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn't be?”

“Yeah. Kind of. After, you know. Everything.”

Dean nodded. They fell silent again.

Sam struggled with what he wanted to say. “Dean, you think we could...declare a truce?”

“A truce?”

“Yeah. I know you're still pissed at me. That's fine. But maybe we could be civil again. Work our way back to being brothers again.”

Dean's eyes left Sam's face, and dropped down to his chest. “Brothers, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sam replied. And he hoped Dean saw his sincerity, his remorse.

“I'll think about it.”

They were quiet after that, but for the first time in a long time, Sam felt hopeful.

 

 


	15. Past and Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much happens in this chapter. Some references to "Shadow", but no dialogue. This might seem a little repetitive, but it will lead into the next chapter, which I'm excited to write!

_Soulmate marks, or soulmarks, are said to be indestructible. So indestructible, in fact, there were soulmarks found on the bodies in the ashes of the ruins of Pompeii. Soulmarks have been an invaluable resource for historians, as they seemingly can endure anything. - Soulmates: A History_

 

The truce was working. That was important. Sam knew that it would take time to become brothers again. To be close again. Slow, and plodding steps.

They had had a case where they were used as bait for their father, and he had actually shown up. Sam had wanted to go with him when he left. Wanted to lay his vengeance to rest. But Dean hadn't let him. Sam was trying not to resent Dean over it. Sam was trying to understand Dean's reasons. And in the end, he had conceded. He wished he wasn't bitter about it.

But maybe the sacrifice had been worth it. Dean had smiled at him the other day. Just a little smirk over coffee and ham biscuits, but Sam had considered it a win. He still tried not to be shirtless in front of him. Tried to ignore the existence of the mark altogether. Sometimes he caught Dean staring at him. Or rather, his chest. He didn't know what to do with his new found attraction to Dean. He just knew he wasn't ready for what Dean still seemed to want.

After Jess he was lost. He had made a promise to her. He had wanted to mate her. He couldn't turn around and betray that. He couldn't leave her. Dean took up so much space. He sprawled across chairs, stretched out on beds, puffed his chest out when he was threatened. Sam was sure that he would demand all the space that Sam had for love as well. He would demand Sam's complete self. Sam didn't want that. Didn't want Dean to consume him, as the flames had consumed Jess. And maybe Jess belonged to the fire now, as their mom did, but just as John would always belong to Mary, Sam would always belong to Jess.

 

Even after, however, Dean wouldn't talk to him. Not about their relationship, and not about their father. Sam had tried.

“Dean, we need to talk,” Sam had initiated the conversation in the Impala. He figured it would be easier to have this conversation if they could option out of eye contact.

“About what?” Dean had responded.

“About...About us. About working things out. Becoming brothers again.”

“No.”

“Dean-”

“Look, Sam. We don't need to talk. We don't need a plan. We are brothers.”

“I'm aware of that. I just think we need to talk about the soulmate thing.”

“What's there to talk about? You already made your position clear.”

Sam had sighed and ran his hand down his face. “But what about your position?”

Dean shook his head. “I'm done talking, Sam. No chick flick moments, remember?” With that statement he had reached over to turn the radio up, drowning out any further conversation or awkward silences.

The same results had happened with their father. Sam knew what the reasoning was, but he was far from patient. Maybe it was good thing they hadn't had that conversation. It would have just led to an argument, and they didn't need any more tension between them.

And to top it all off, he was still attracted to Dean. He noticed the way his throat moved when he gulped down his beer. He noticed the sweat that made his t-shirt cling to his body when they were digging up graves. He noticed the competency of his hands when he was cleaning the guns. He noticed. He never touched himself. He took a lot of cold showers. He didn't know what he would do with the pleasure. He didn't know if the catalyst to orgasm would be Jess or Dean. He didn't know if he deserved the escape, the relief.

Had there been any indication that Sam and Dean were soulmates when they were younger? For Dean, the answer was yes, obviously. But what was it for Sam? He had always looked up to Dean, always wanted to be just like his big brother. For multiple reasons. Because Dean had the respect of their Alpha, because Dean didn't seem unhappy or restless, because Dean wasn't a freak. But he was. He had been in love with Sam all that time.

Sam remembered a little beta that Dean had brought home one time. She had been small, brunette, with big breasts, and bright pink lips. They had disappeared into Dean's room. She had left her coat on the couch. A small blue coat with a big collar, and a belt that tied at the waist. It didn't smell of anything but her perfume, a light citrus scent. Sam picked it up, put it up to his nose, breathed it in. Then he put it on, and went into the bathroom to look at himself. He fixed the collar so that it laid right, he smoothed down the wrinkles, and cinched the belt as tight as he could at the waist. He bit at his lips, but couldn’t get them to the right shade. He had been twelve.

Sam had always thought that had been about being an omega. Wanting to look pretty in general. But looking back, Sam was pretty sure it was about wanting to look pretty for Dean. Had Sam been in denial this whole time? Maybe. But it couldn't change anything. His loyalty was to Jess. He couldn't betray her memory with his brother.

 

He dreamed of Jess. Dreamed of her laugh. The way she smelled of soap and musk. Of her blonde hair falling into his face as she balanced above him on their bed, arms trapping him in the cage of her body. He reached up to push it back, tangling his fingers in the strands. Light blonde strands turned darker, became shorter. Her pale round face turned harder, with a stronger jaw, fuller lips. Sam's fingers traced the patterns the freckles made on his skin. “Dean,” he murmured, before he leaned up and pressed his lips to his brother's.

Sam woke up, hard, aching, with tears clumping his lashes. Fuck.

 

“I still love Jess,” Sam blurted out over a breakfast. Coffee and hashbrowns this time.

Dean looked up from the paper he was studying. Stared at Sam for a moment, then nodded and looked down again.

“I wanted to mate her,” Sam continued.

Dean didn't look up this time, just acted like he hadn't heard him. Fine. He didn't have to talk but Sam needed to. Needed to put this to rest.

“She was great, you know. Knew about the,” he broke off, gestured to his chest. “I told her it didn't matter. That I loved her. That I wouldn't let my life be determined by some mark. That I didn't believe in fate. She didn't have one. A soulmark.”

Dean still hadn't looked up.

“Look, Dean. I wanna be honest with you. If it hadn't been for Jess, maybe...,” Dean looked up at this. Sam felt encouraged.

“I love you. Like a brother. Is that enough?” Sam asked.

There was silence for a moment.

“You done?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded, ran a hand through his hair.

“Good. We gotta move. I found a case,” Dean said as he stood up, and shrugged on his jacket.

Sam sighed. No talking it out then. Right. He followed after his brother. They had work to do.

 

 

 


	16. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Something Wicked." More than I would like unfortunately. :( But this particular case was pretty important for the chapter. Not as much next time, I promise.

_As Omegas are able to bear children, it is usually assumed that they, out of all the genders, are the nurturers. Some traditionalists believe that Omegas crave children, and that their entire purpose is to create and sustain a child. However, most people now agree that any gender can be a good and loving parent, and some Omegas have made the decision to never have children. Thankfully, the belief in a "true purpose" is only held by a minority of the people.- Taylor's Guide to Gender and Gender Identity in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas._

 

Another day. Another case. This time found for them by their father. He had sent them coordinates, and good son that he was, Dean insisted that they follow the leader. Now they were talking to doctor to get the details.

“So you go six cases so far?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. But now...,” Dr. Hydecker trailed off.

“Now what?” Sam prompted.

“The kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are...wearing out.”

“Excuse me, Dr. Hydecker,” a nurse interrupted them, giving the doctor forms to look at.

“You ever seen anything like this before?” Sam asked the doctor.

“Never this severe,” he responded.

“And the way it spreads. That's a new one for me,” the nurse interjected.

“What do you mean?”

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another.”

“You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean asked.

“They're not conscious,” the nurse told them.

“None of them?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” Dean asked.

“Well, if you think it will help,” Dr. Hydecker answered.

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?”

 

Sam and Dean were talking to one of the parents.

“Now you say Mary is the oldest?” Sam asked the man. He looked tired, worn down. Worried about his daughters.

“Thirteen,” he responded.

“OK. And she came down with it first, right? And then...,” Sam trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks.

“Bethany, the next night.”

“Within 24 hours?” Sam asked.

“I guess. Look, I, uh, already went through all this with the doctor.”

“Just a few more questions if you don't mind. How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?” Dean asked.

“No. We think it was an open window.”

“'Both times?” Dean asked again.

“The first time. I, I don't really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed.”

“So you think she opened it?” Sam questioned.

“It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could've.”

 

Sam and Dean decided to search the man's house for evidence that it was their kind of case. They were currently in Bethany's bedroom scanning it for EMF.

“You got anything over there?” Sam asked Dean.

“Nah, nothing,” Dean answered.

“Yeah, me neither.”

Sam went over to the window that was supposed to have been the cause of the pneumonia. There was a handprint imprinted into the wood.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“You were right, it's not pneumonia.”

Dean came over and stood beside Dean. They both stared at the handprint.

“It's rotted. What the hell leaves a handprint like that?” Sam wondered out loud.

Dean's expression changed. Became distant. Closed.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

“I know what it is. I know why Dad sent us here.”

Sam waited but Dean didn't say anymore.

“You wanna enlighten me?”

“It's a shtriga”

“Okay. And that is?”

“A kind of witch,” Dean informed him.

“All right. Well, I'll research it, and then we can find it and kill it.”

Dean was silent.

“Dean?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

 

Dean was acting weird. He was defensive at times. Prickly. He had connected with that kid at the motel. Not that that in itself was unusual. He had always been kinda good with kids. Like Sam, when he was little. He had looked out for him, cared for him. Omegas were the stereotypical nurturers, as they could give birth. But Sam thought Dean was better at being a caretaker than him. He thought it was a bit of a tragedy that he could have kids and Dean couldn't.

All that Sam had been able to get out of him was that Dean had felt like he'd fucked up. That he felt responsible for the shtriga's presence because of something that had happened when they were children. Sam thought Dean took on too much responsibility at times. That their Alpha gave them too much responsibility. Dean should have been playing army with the neighborhood kids, not protecting Sam. Maybe if Sam hadn't been born an omega, maybe if had been an Alpha like John, or a Beta like Dean. Maybe then Dean would have gotten a childhood.

 

They followed the evidence, set up the bait, and did their job. Dean had called Sam “little brother,” and Sam was happy because it sounded true. Like Dean had meant it. Hopefully the truce was working and they were finding their way back again. He wanted that so much. Sam was aware, logically, that people grew up, grew apart, became strangers to one another. But he couldn't imagine being a stranger to Dean, and he wouldn't accept it. He was prepared to do whatever it took to gain back Dean's trust.

After they took down the shtriga, Dean looked lighter. Relieved, maybe. They were in the Impala ready to move on, Sam was looking out the window, his fingers drumming on his thighs.

“Sam,” Dean said, trying to get his attention.

Sam looked up to find Dean's eyes on him. He hadn't even put the keys in the ignition, instead he was rolling them in his hands like a nervous gesture.

“Yeah?” Sam asked.

“I think...,” Dean trailed off. He turned his head, looked out the window, kept up the steady movement of the keys.

“What?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About what you wanted to talk about. Before.”

Sam's heart rate sped up. “Okay,” he tried to say calmly.

“With this case and everything, I just....,” He paused. “We're brothers. Nothing's gonna change that,” he said and he turned to look at Sam again.

Sam nodded. “That's all I want, man.”

Dean laughed. Maybe a little bitter. “Yeah, I know.”

“So, are we good?”

“No, we're not good, Sammy. But you should know, that this,” he gestured between them, “isn't about an ultimatum.”

“I don't-” Sam started.

He was cut off by Dean's mouth on his. Sam didn't pull away, but instead opened his mouth to his brother. Dean's tongue slipped inside, and he tasted of beer and sugar. Of hedonism. Of sin. Sam kissed him back, stroking his own tongue over his brother's. And then, Dean was pulling back and Sam's lips pressed together, as if trying not to lose the pressure.

Dean smiled at him. “You had your say. This was mine.”

Sam nodded. “Dean, I'm not sure-” he was cut off again.

“End of discussion, Sam,” Dean said. Then he slipped the key into the ignition, the car purred her welcome, and they pulled off onto the road.

Sam felt that something important had shifted. Why did he kiss Dean back? He expected to feel guilty, like he had desecrated his promise to Jess. But he didn't. All he felt was something deep inside his belly fluttering, and heat that seemed to have been applied to his face by his brother's lips.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they finally kissed!! Hope it was worth the wait. :)


	17. Home is Where the Heart Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "Provenance," but not much. The case from the episode is only vaguely hinted at. It's gonna be at least a couple of weeks until the next chapter, because I'm going on a trip tomorrow. There will be updates in April I promise. Hope y'all enjoy the chapter.

_Soulmate kisses have always been depicted as magical. That's why so many princesses are woken up by them in fairy tales. They were thought to be able to heal all wounds, and make everything better. - Soulmates: A History_

The kiss changed everything and nothing. There was still tension between them, but a different kind of tension. It felt like anticipation rather than awkwardness. Dean had started touching him again. Nothing sexual. Nothing that would seem like he was pressuring Sam. Just small things. Like resting his arm on the back of Sam's chair, slapping him on the shoulder after a bad joke, or a job well done, or letting their thighs press together when they sat close to one another. Sam was hyper aware every time Dean's body came into contact with his.

He still dreamed of Jess. But instead of fire, he dreamed of picnics in the sun, and long days spent in bed. They felt peaceful. They felt like acceptance. Sam still didn't know if he was ready to take that step. He was still unsure, hesitant. The truth was, he didn't know if he'd ever be ready.

 

Sam felt a little uncomfortable, browsing at the auction. They were pursuing the case that Sam had found for them. And he noticed the disdainful glances from the other people in the room. He felt a little overwhelmed at all the different scents. Dean, of course, was having no such issues. Didn't matter if it was free samples at the grocery stores, or crudites at a fancy party, if Dean saw finger food it was going in his mouth.

After an uncomfortable run in with the owner of the auction house, they came across a creepy painting of a family. They stared at it for a few minutes before somebody stepped up beside them.

“A fine example of American Primitive, wouldn't you say?” she asked. Her scent wafted over to Sam. Cloves. She was an Alpha then, or trying to pass as one.

“Well, I'd day it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses. But you knew that, you just wanted to see if I did,” Sam replied.

“Guilty. And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake.”

“I'm Sam. This is my,” he hesitated, “my brother, Dean.”

Dean continued eating, and gave her a brief nod.

“Dean. Can we get you some more mini-quiche?” Sarah asked.

“I'm good, thanks,” Dean answered.

“So, can I help you with something?” she asked Sam.

“Yeah, actually. What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?”

“The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But Dad's right about one thing, sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones.”

“Is it possible to see the provenances?”

“I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that,” Daniel Blake interrupted them.

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“You're not on the guest list. And I think it's time to leave,” Daniel sneered at them.

So they left after they were ordered out. Dean was a little quiet in the car, and his shoulders were tensed.

 

“She liked you,” Dean commented when they got to the motel room.

“What?” Sam asked, confused.

“Sarah. She liked you. We could use that.”

“Dean, I don't think-”

“It's fine, Sam,” Dean cut him off. “We need information. She has information. You should call her.”

“You wouldn't have a problem with that?”

“No. Whatever it takes to wrap this case up, man,” he looked away as he said it, and it sounded like a lie.

Sam ended up calling her anyway, because Dean was right. They needed her help. It wasn't like anything was going to happen anyway. She wasn't Jess. Or Dean, a little voice inside him said traitorously.

 

It was awkward, sitting in the restaurant with Sarah. They made small talk. Then they bonded over how awkward they were. Sam liked her, but something was missing. At first, he was sure it was because she wasn't Jess.

“So, where'd you go to school?” she asked.

“Stanford. Pre-law,” he replied.

“Why pre-law?”

“Because I like helping people.”

She nodded.

“And you?” Sam asked.

“I was an artist. But not very good at it. My father owns an auction house so this is where I ended up. Why didn't you ever go to law school?”

“That's a really long story for another time,” Sam responded. He wasn't comfortable talking about Jess.

They got along well. Everything went fine, and at the end of the date Sam got the information, the provenances he and Dean needed.

Sarah was beautiful, witty, and kind. But she didn't know Sam. She didn't know what Sam did, how dangerous Sam's life was.

She didn't give him knowing grins. She didn't have a teasing drawl. She didn't ask for pie after the meal. She wasn't his soulmate. Sam was surprised he wasn't comparing her to Jess. Wasn't wishing she was Jess. Maybe he was healing. Jess had become a dull ache, still painful, but not excruciating. It was a pain he could live with. He missed her, but she wasn't coming back. Maybe it was time to move on, not let go. He didn't think he could ever let her go. Didn't think he could ever stop loving her.

He didn't want to take that step with Sarah. He liked her, but he didn't want her. He should talk to Dean. After the case was finished he would. It was time.

 

The case was done. The spirits were put to rest. The girl was saved. It was time for the final act.

“Hey, can we talk?” Sam asked when they were packing their duffels.

Dean kinda grunted when he shoved a rolled up t-shirt into his bag. Sam took that as a yes.

“About Sarah,” Sam started.

Dean held up a hand. “It's fine, Sam. No ultimatums, remember? We're still brothers.”

Sam shook his head. “That's not it, man.”

Dean looked up from his packing. “What is it then? We gotta get on the road.”

“I didn't want her, Dean.”

Dean nodded. “She's not Jessica.”

“No. She's not you,” Sam responded.

Dean became still. He didn't say anything.

“I was sitting with at her at dinner, you know. And all I could think about was you.” Sam sat down on his bed. “When you kissed me, I didn't feel guilty. Didn't feel like I was betraying Jess.”

When Sam fell silent, Dean approached the bed and sat beside him. “You're gonna have to spell this out for me, man,” he said.

Sam turned to face Dean. “I think I wanna try this. Us.”

Dean grinned, and started to lean forward. Sam stood up.

“Sam?”

“I just...I'm scared, Dean. What if we can't make it work? What if we break up? Fuck, how would we deal with that? I can't lose my brother.”

“We just won't break up.”

“Dean,” Sam said, exasperated.

“What?” Dean said as he stood up. He moved to stand in front of Sam. “I'm pretty awesome. And you're alright. There's no way this isn't gonna work.”

Dean reached up and tangled his fingers in Sam's hair. He tugged on it, so Sam would bend down. Sam resisted.

“I just think that we should take things slow, you know? Not jump into the deep end right off.”

“Shit, Sammy. Okay. Slow. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Sam laughed and bent down to put his mouth on Dean's. It felt like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too excited. We still gotta long way to go. ;)


	18. Daddy's Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter! My trip was good. Sorry about how late this chapter is. But this chapter is a bit longer to make up for it :) The regular posting schedule should resume next month. Some dialogue from "Dead Man's Blood."

_It was once that that Alphas were genetically predisposed to be aggressive, and Omegas were thought to be submissive for the same reason. Relatively new discoveries in the genetics field has proven this to be false._ _Behaviorally, it is perfectly normal for Alphas to be docile, and Omegas to be aggressive. Unfortunately, not everyone's thinking has caught up with the science.- Taylor's Guide to Genders and Gender Identity in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas._

 

Sam was sitting with his brother in a coffee shop. He was on his laptop, while Dean was looking through the paper. Dean sighed, and put the newspaper down.

Sam looked up. “Nothing?”

“Nope. You?”

“Still working on it,” Sam responded.

“All right. I'm gonna go get another cup of coffee. You want one?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Sam muttered, already absorbed back into his task.

Then Dean was leaning close, lips pressed against his ear. “No problem, sweetheart,” he crooned.

Sam's face heated, and Dean chuckled.

“Jerk,” Sam mumbled.

“Bitch,” Dean tossed over his shoulder as he swaggered to the counter.

By the time he came back Sam had found a case.

 

Their Dad was back. Surprised them by knocking on the Impala's window. So now they were working the case together. Sam was conflicted. He was happy because maybe this meant they would finally get on with it, and he would be able to lay his demons to rest, lay Jess to rest. But he was already chafing under his Dad's orders. Sam knew it was only a matter of time before they got into it. He was never any good at holding in his anger. Dean had broached the subject of telling John about the soulmate thing. Sam wasn't sure that was the best idea. Dean decided to do it anyway.

They were sitting in a diner, going over the details of the case. There was a pause in the conversation.

“Dad, there something me and Sam want to tell you,” Dean declared.

Sam glared at him, but Dean ignored him.

John looked up from his notes, a little distracted. “Can this wait?” he asked.

“Not really,” Dean responded.

“What is it then?”

“Me and Sam...” Dean trailed off.

John raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Well, we're soulmates,” Dean said. He pulled down his t-shirt enough to reveal about half the mark. Sam knew that John had seen it before, but he guessed Dean figured visual aid wouldn't hurt. Dean nudged his arm. Sam gave him his best “fuck you” look but also pulled his shirt down to reveal his own mark.

Their Dad remained quiet for a while. Long enough that Sam was getting uncomfortable sitting in the hard plastic seat of their booth. Then he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, and went back to his notes. “Now boys, there's a few things you should know about vampires-”

“What?” Sam interrupted. “That's all you're gonna say? You don't have a problem with your sons hooking up?”

“Sam-” Dean started.

John interrupted him. “What do you want from me, Sam? Not much you can do about being soulmates. I mean, I'm not jumping up and down. But I'm not really surprised. You boys always were thick as thieves. This might even be a good thing. Maybe now, you'll stay where you belong. With your family. Your pack.”

Sam was a little pissed off. “I had every right to want my own life,” he argued.

“Sam, just cool down, all right. No need to pick a fight. He's okay with it. That's all we can ask for,” Dean put in.

Sam looked over at him, met his eyes. He reluctantly gave in, and went quiet.

“Listen to your brother, Sammy. After all, he's kinda like your Alpha now. As much as a Beta can be one anyway,” their Dad said.

Sam saw Dean's jaw clench. He grinned at him a little, gave him an “I told you so” look. Dean ignored him.

“Can we get back to the case now?” John asked.

And that was that.

 

Sam and Dean were arguing about the case. Mainly about Sam's role in the case. Dean wanted Sam to let him do the heavy lifting while Sam sat on the sidelines and mostly researched. Sam disagreed.

“I just want you to be safe,” Dean was saying.

“Bullshit,” Sam responded.

“Excuse me?”

“I said bullshit. You're trying to be my Alpha.”

“No. You don' know what you're talking about,” Dean exclaimed.

“It's funny how this protectiveness came into being when we started hunting with Dad again.”

“That's crap, Sammy. I've always been protective of you!”

“Not like this. I'm not stupid, Dean. We get into this...relationship, Dad comes back, and all of a sudden you have to be a the Alpha-est Alpha to ever Alpha.”

“I'm a freaking Beta, Sam!”

“I know. And so does Dad. And that's the problem isn't it? His little comment at the diner. You've had this hero worship for him our whole lives. You have this need to live up to his expectations.”

“What are you saying?”

“You need to stand up to him, not fall in line Dean. I'm not gonna sit back and be the little Omega who can't make his own decisions, and can't fend for himself. Not even for you,” Sam declared. He walked away. He just needed a little space.

His father loved them. Sam knew that. But he also made things ten thousand times harder than they needed to be. Sam had left because he needed his own space, his own life. To John that had been unacceptable. In John's eyes, he had turned away from the safety of their family, no matter how unsafe their lifestyle was.

Sam had felt suffocated. Even now, being around his father, he was finding it hard to breathe. He was hoping for Dean's support. But Dean had always tried to stay neutral, but when forced to pick a side he had always chosen John's. Sam knew it wasn't really Dean's fault. John was his Alpha. What the Alpha said goes. Sam had always thought that he was defective in some way as an Omega. He was too tall, too outspoken, too rough around the edges.

 

It was starting to feel like old times, their dad in front of them in his pickup, and Sam and Dean following behind like good little soldiers. Only thins time, Dean's hand was on his thigh. Sam sighed, scrubbed his hand over his face, and leaned back against the seat.

“So, it's starting,” Dean stated.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Sam, we've been looking for Dad all year. Now we're not with him more than a couple of hours and there's static already?”

“No. Look, I'm happy he's OK, all right? And I'm happy that we're all together again. A pack again.”

“Well good.”

“It's just the way he treats us. Like he's our Alpha.”

“Sam, he is our Alpha. You just said that you're happy to be part of a pack again,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah. But not like this. There's Alphas, and there's traditionalist asshole Alphas. I mean, he doesn't tell us anything. He barks orders at us, Dean, he expects us to follow them without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal.”

“He does what he does for a reason.”

“What reason?”

“It's just the way he runs things. And he's our leader, our Alpha whether you like it or not.”

“Is,” Sam paused for a second, “is that the way you think Alphas are supposed to be?”

“Sam, just do what you're told and shut up. We've got a job to do, and you're not helping by arguing all the time.”

“Whatever,” Sam responded. He turned to look out the window. Dean's hand was still heavy on his thigh, stroking a little as if to soothe. All Sam was took in was Dean telling him to shut up. Dean wasn't an Alpha, he reminded himself. No, but he'd always wanted to be just like their Dad, their Alpha, a little voice whispered.

 

A few days later, and they were following their father again. Only this time they had switched, and Sam was driving. Maybe it was because Dean knew that he needed it. Knew he needed the control. Dean was beside him talking to their father.

“Yeah Dad. All right, got it,” Dean said into the phone. He hung up, and turned to look at Sam. “Pull off at the next exit,” he told him.

And Sam was angry at the order. Angry at their Dad. Angry at Dean. “Why?” he asked.

“Cause Dad thinks we've got the vampire's tail.”

“How?”

“I don't know. He didn't say,” Dean told him.

Something in Sam burst. He sped the car up, passing their Dad's truck, and stopped in front of it. He had had enough. Dean muttered something when Sam got out of the car, but he didn't slow down.

“Sam!” Dean called from behind him.

“What the hell was that?” John asked.

“We need to talk,” Sam informed him.

“About what?”

“About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?”

“Sammy, come on, we can Q and A after we kill all the vampires,” Dean inserted.

Dean's input pissed Sam off more. Always the goddamn peacemaker.

“Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now out of the blue you need our help. Now obviously something big is going down, and we wanna know what!” Sam demanded.

“Get back in the car,” his Dad ordered.

“No.”

“As your Alpha, I said get back in the car.”

“Yeah. And I said no,” Sam reiterated.

“OK, you made your point tough guy. Look we're all tired, we can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on,” Dean said.

Dean grabbed his arm and started to pull him toward the car. Sam allowed himself to be led, but he couldn't help but get one more thing out there. “This is why I left in the first place,” he said.

“Why'd you say?” John asked, with this edge to his voice, like he was outraged or some shit.

Sam tugged himself out of Dean's grasp. Went back to John. “You heard me.”

“Yeah. You left. Left your pack when we needed you. You walked away, Sam,” his father accused.

“Sam,” Dean muttered. Like it was his fault. Like he was the one being difficult.

“You walked away,” John shouted again, right up close to Sam, as he tried to intimidate him with the broadness of his body.

“Stop it, both of you,” Dean said.

Sam ignored him. “You're the one who said don't come back, Dad. You closed that door, not me. You were just pissed off that you couldn't control me anymore!”

Dean got in between them, put his hand on Sam's chest as he faced their Dad. “Listen, stop it, stop it. Stop it! That's enough! That means you too,” he emphasized to their Dad. To their Alpha. Sam was dumbstruck for a second. Dean had given their Alpha orders. Stepped in between them, protected Sam. Sam shook his head, and walked back the car.

 

The case was done, and the vampires were dead. Sam and Dean were packing up their stuff. They were hoping John was coming with them, or that they would be going with John. Whatever. As long as they stuck together. As long as they went after the thing that had killed their mom. That had killed Jess.

John entered the room.

“So boys,” John said.

“Yes, Alpha,” Sam answered.

“You ignored a direct order back there,” he stated.

“Yes, Alpha,” Sam said again.

“Yeah, but we saved your ass,” Dean said.

Sam looked at Dean. He didn't understand what was going on. Dean had never talked back to their father this way.

“You're right,” John agreed.

“I am?” Dean asked.

“It scares the hell out of me. You two are my pack, all I've got left. But I guess we're stronger together. So, we go after this damn thing together.

“Yes, Alpha,” Sam and Dean said together. Finally, they were going on their mission.

 

That night, Dean insisted on separate motel rooms. John agreed, and smirked at them when they disappeared into theirs.

“It's just weird,” Sam complained.

“You'd rather him have a problem with it?” Dean asked.

“No. But who's just okay with his sons shacking up together?”

“He knows we're soulmates, Sam. Just quit looking for arguments.”

“Fine,” Sam huffed. “I'm gonna take a shower.”

“Want company?” Dean asked with a leer.

“Dean-”

“I know, I know. Slow.”

After Sam's shower, he came out to find Dean passed out on his bed, boots still on. Sam sighed. He walked over to Dean, and started unlacing them. Then, he gently eased them off of his brother's feet, trying not to wake him. He was unsuccessful.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, Dean. Go back to sleep.”

“Give me a kiss,” Dean demanded.

Sam looked up. His brother was looking at him blearily.

“What?”

“A goodnight kiss,” Dean grinned.

Sam shook his head, but went to him. He bent over and placed a chaste kiss against Dean's mouth. “'Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Sam.”

 

 


	19. Ashes and Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "In My Time of Dying." Chapter title is from a song of the same title by The Cult. Quote is not mine. This chapter skips a bit ahead by a couple of episodes. But y'all know what happened. :) Hope you enjoy.

_In a world full of temporary things, you are a perpetual feeling. - Sanober Khan_

 

They had been so close. Close to ending it. But Sam couldn't shoot his father, and they had been hit by a truck.

The worst part was that Sam never lost consciousness. He was aware of what was happening. Of Dean and his Dad in the car. Of the helicopter that took them to the hospital. But he wasn't aware of their condition. Were they alive? Dead? He didn't know. He fought the entire way to the hospital, questioned anyone he could question. He had gotten no answers. He had struggled against the nurses when they tried to get him to stay lying down. He had stood up, brushed them off.

How did they get here? How did everything become so fucked up? He didn't know how Dean was, how his Dad was.

“Let's just get you checked out, son,” some doctor had murmured, in some attempt to be soothing.

Sam had shrugged him off, but had found himself hauled to some room to be checked out. Well, they said room. It was really just a table with a curtain around it. They had tried to pull it around him. Sam had thrown a fit.

“What if he needs me, and he can't see me?” he had asked.

“Who?” someone had responded.

“My brother, goddamn it. My brother, Dean,” Sam had been vaguely aware that he had been yelling.

“Calm down, sir,” he had been ordered.

“Where is he?” he had responded.

After that, it got blurry. They had given him something. Some kind of sedative that hadn't put him to sleep, but made all the edges blurry. And then he had been made to wait. He was still waiting. He felt a buzzing, a sort of itch under his skin. He was having trouble thinking. All he could think about was Dean. God, Dean. Dean. What if he was dead? Would Sam know? Would he feel it through his mark? He didn't know. Where the fuck was everyone? Why was he alone here?

 

When they released him, he went to see Dean. He finally got a room number out of some nurse. He didn't look good. He was hooked up to machines. That wasn't right. Sam was fine. So, Dean had to be fine, right? Wasn't that how the soulmate thing worked? If Dean didn't make it...No. Of course he was going to make it.

He made himself step into the room, cross over to the bed. He put his hand on Dean's chest, felt his heartbeat there and was somewhat reassured. He bent down, and kissed his brother. He lingered over his lips. Maybe he could breathe his own life into his brother's lungs. One life for another. It seemed a fair enough trade. Sam for Dean. A freak for a hero. He heard a throat clearing behind him. He turned.

“Your father's awake. You can go see him if you like,” a doctor informed him.

“What about my brother?” Sam asked.

“He sustained serious injury. Blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema.”

Cerebral edema. Cerebral edema. Cerebral edema. Sam couldn't make sense of the words.

“What can we do?” he asked the doctor.

“We won't know his full condition until he wakes up. If he wakes up,” the doctor informed him.

“If?”

“I have to be honest. Most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations.”

Sam did have realistic expectations. Dean was a fighter. He would pull through. That was the end of it. There were no other options. Dean would live because there was no other choice. Not for him, and not for Sam.

 

He saw his Dad. They argued. He had given orders, and Sam had ultimately complied. He didn't want to run John's errands while Dean was lying in a hospital bed, but he knew Dean would want the car taken care of. So, he talked to Bobby, gotten what his Dad needed. He tried to stay focused. Tried to stay centered. But his chest hurt, and Bobby wanted to use the car for parts.

“No,” Sam told him.

“There's nothing to fix here, boy. I shouldn't even be towing this,” Bobby said.

“Dean will want it back. He'd never forgive me if I gave up on it.” Gave up on him.

Bobby was quiet for a moment. “All right, whatever you want,” he gave in.

Sam nodded, got the things his Dad needed, and went back to the hospital.

 

It was weird. When Jess had died all he could think about was revenge. It had been what kept him going. It still was what kept him going. At least, that's what he thought. Just a few days ago, he had been willing to run into a burning building to get the thing that had taken Jess away from him. Taken his mother away from him. But now that Dean was here, now that Dean might not survive, he didn't care about vengeance. He didn't care about the mission. The world could burn if he didn't get Dean back.

When Dean had been in this situation before he had been willing to do anything for Dean to be safe. That had turned out badly. An innocent man had died. But Sam found himself willing to do it again. He even suggested it to his father. And he wasn't ashamed. He just wanted his brother back. His soulmate back. Whatever he had to achieve that, he would do.

 

They were arguing. They were always arguing.

“Dean is dying, and you have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!” Sam yelled at Dad.

“Do not tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean,” Dad yelled back.

“How? How is revenge going to help him? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself. It's the same selfish obsession!”

“You know, it's funny. I thought it was your obsession too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be a part of this hunt. Now if you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened.”

“It was possessing you, Dad. I would have killed you too.”

“Yeah, and your brother, your soulmate, would be awake right now,” John responded.

“Go to hell.”

“I should have never have taken you along in the first place. I knew it was a mistake. I knew I was wrong. You're an omega, you're not equipped-” John broke off when a glass of water fell off the table.

Sam didn't know what happened. Was the glass on the edge? Did the hospital have a spirit? His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of people running in the hallway outside of his Dad's room.

“Something's going on out there,” Dad stated.

No shit, Sherlock. Sam stayed silent. Dad jerked his head, ordering Sam to investigate. Sam went. He followed the noise. It was Dean. He had flatlined. The doctor was working on him, shocking him with paddles. Sam was vaguely aware of the tears on his face. Everything was blurred, not quite coming together. All Sam could hear was the monitors. All he could he see was his brother. Still no response. And then, something broke through. Some kind of sound. Muffled but there. Sam couldn't quite make it out. Couldn't quite identify it.

And then he heard words.

“We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm,” a nurse declared.

And everything came back. Became sharper. He had moved into the room at some point. He backed out to stand in the hallway. Tried to get out of the way. Tried to take a breath in relief. And then he heard something again. Something muffled, and then something clear.

“Sammy.”

He looked beside him. Nothing. But Sam knew, he could feel it. Could feel him. Thought he could catch the scent of musk and leather. Taste the coffee on his lips. Dean was here.


	20. Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from "In My Time of Dying."

_There is a bond formed between pack members. The bond appears once members are accepted into a pack, through birth, mating, or through a bonding ceremony. Bonding ceremonies are used for a variety of reasons, like adoption of a child. When a bond is formed, it remains until death. Bonds cannot be dissolved any other way. Therefore, it is advised to only bond with careful thought and consideration. - Pack Dynamics for the Modern World_

 

Sam left the hospital. He drove around a little, and finally spotted what he was looking for, a toy store. He walked out with a Mystical Talking Board Game, and a sense of hope. Hope that he could communicate with Dean through it. Hope that the psychic shit would be good for something besides seeing people die.

He went back to the hospital. Back to Dean. It was dark. Late. Visiting hours were probably over, but Sam didn't care. Let them try to kick him out. He wasn't leaving Dean. He went to his room, and found a place to sit on the floor. Somewhere he could spread out the board.

'Dean? Dean, are you here?” Sam asked.

He set his hands on the planchette. Fingers barely touching, barely connecting. After a few seconds it started to move. It landed on YES. Sam felt overwhelmed. Thankful. He laughed a little because laughing was better than crying. Fuck knows, if he started crying he would never stop.

“Hey, big brother. It hasn't been the same without you,” Sam said.

The planchette started to move again. Moved to the letter H, then U, and N.

“Hunt? Hunting? What, are you hunting?” Sam asked.

YES.

“Bit of a workaholic, huh?” Sam teased. “Do you know what it is?”

REAP.

“A reaper,” Sam murmured. He was silent for a moment. “Is it after you?”

YES

Shit. That meant Dean was dying. No.

“I'll find a way, Dean. You're not gonna die, all right?” Sam said.

He didn't wait for a response. He got up, left the board on the floor, and went to Dad's room. If anybody would know what to do it would be his Dad. His Alpha. He wasn't there. But his journal was. Sam snatched it off the table and hurried back to Dean. He could fix this. He had to fix this. He sat beside Dean's body, put a hand on Dean's chest.

“Hey. Dad wasn't it his room. But I got his journal. It's going to fine. I promise. I'll save you, Dean.” He had to. There was no other choice.

Sam didn't know how much time had passed as he sat beside Dean looking through Dad's journal. All he knew was Before and After. Before was when he was desperately combing through the journal, searching for an answer he couldn't find. After was when Dean woke up gasping on the bed, trying to claw the tube out of his throat.

“Dean,” he gasped.

Dean was still tugging on the tube, and Sam put his hand on his to stop him.

“Stop, Dean. I'll get somebody, okay? Just calm down for a second. Don't hurt yourself,” Sam whispered, as if making too much noise would make it all disappear. Would make him wake up from this dream where Dean was awake and not fighting for his life anymore, but still a still figure on a hospital bed.

Sam moved of the bed and into the hallway right in front of Dean's room. He wasn't gonna move further away from his brother.

“Hey!” he shouted. “We need help here!” He heard footsteps approach and ducked back into the room. “All right, Dean. Someone's coming.” He took Dean's hand in his, and held on until he was forced away by the nurses.

Sam stayed in the room, out of the way, in the corner until all the extra people were gone. Until Dean was declared healthy by the staff. And then he moved out of the corner and sat on his brother's bed again.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” his brother responded.

“Feeling up for a kiss?” he asked.

Dean smirked and met him halfway, leaning up into Sam while Sam bent downward to him. Their lips met somewhere in the middle. Sam would have left it chaste, an affirmation that Dean was fine. That everything was going to be fine. But Dean didn't seem satisfied, and pushed his tongue into Sam's mouth like it belonged there. Sam responded eagerly, panting into his brother's mouth. Just as desperate as Dean to reassure, to be reassured, that they were alive.

Sam broke the kiss, and rested his head on his brother's chest. “I missed you,” he said.

“No chick flick moments, Sammy,” Dean responded.

Sam laughed, and rubbed his nose across Dean's collarbone. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam looked up, and met Dean's eyes.

“Lay down with me,” his brother said.

Sam nodded, and eased down on the bed beside him. He curled into his side, closed his eyes, and slept for the first time in what felt like weeks.

 

Their father had seemed happy that Dean had finally woken up. Sam and Dean had spent a few blissful hours sleeping, and then Sam had come to collect Dad. They had had their big family moment. They had both put past issues behind him. At least, that's what Sam had believed. Not even five minutes later Dad had asked him to get him a cup of coffee.

Sam walked back to his father's room with the cup of coffee he had asked for. Sam had known a dismissal when he'd heard one. Dad had obviously wanted to talk to Dean without him being there. Probably something to do with him. Maybe it was about his Omeganess. How they needed to keep a tighter rein on him. About how that responsibility was now Dean's since Dean was his soulmate, his burden.

Sam was so thankful that Dean was alive. That he got another chance with his brother. A chance to make everything okay between them. That thankfulness didn't extend to his father. He was happy that John had survived the wreck. He was even happy they were all together again, working for a common goal. But he was still so fucking bitter. Would he ever be allowed to make his own choices? Would he ever be in the loop? Why wasn't he trusted like Dean was? He couldn't help but feel lesser, like the extra part. Not needed.

He approached the room, looked for Dad. He was on the floor.

“Dad!” Sam shouted. John didn't move.

Sam ran into the room and knelt beside his father. His Alpha. Felt for a pulse, and failed to find one.

“Dean!” he shouted. Kept repeating. Screamed over and over for his brother for what seemed like an eternity. An eternity kneeling on the floor beside his father's too still body.

Eventually, he was ushered out of the room. Dean was there. They watched as doctors worked on their Dad.

“No, no, no it's our dad. It's our dad!” Dean was shouting. Like he could resuscitate him based on his will alone.

“Okay, stop compressions,” the doctor ordered.

“Come on, come on,” Sam heard Dean muttering beside him.

“Okay, that's it everybody. I'll call it. Time of death: 10:41 am.”

Sam stared at his father's body on the bed. He already felt the loss of his Alpha. He already felt the tie was severed. He had never not had an Alpha before. He hadn't known this was what it felt like. Like there was a piece of him missing. He reached out for Dean, for the other member of his pack, but his brother was already walking toward John, leaving Sam's fingers dangling in the widening space between them.

 

 


	21. Deep in the Hole (Everything's Fine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote is not mine. Chapter title is from AC/DC, half of it anyway. Sorry this chapter is late, but enjoy!

_When I was a little girl you used to learn to sew all the holes in things, darning socks, but nobody mends things anymore.- Vivienne Westwood_

 

Sam stood in front of the pyre and watched his Alpha's body burn. The smell was overwhelming. Sweet and metallic from the coppery smell of the blood, a nauseating aroma from the burnt hair and fingernails. Sam had once had a friend who had a horse. He had been about fourteen at the time, and they had been living out of an old trailer in some back-country straight out of _Deliverance._ Sam would go over to the boy's house on occasion. On one of those occasion the horse was getting its hooves trimmed. Sam would never forget the smell. Looking at his father's body in front of him, he thought it smelled similar, yet not.

Dean was standing beside him. Silent. Stoic. Sam could not say the same. He was crying, tears dripping off his face like rain. His face felt hot. His shoulders felt heavy. They didn't touch. They haven't touched since Sam had discovered their father's body collapsed on the hospital floor. Dean had accepted no comfort and offered none.

“Did he, uh, say anything to you? You know, before he died?” Sam wanted to know what they had talked about. What had been his father's last words? His last wishes? His last mission?

“No,” Dean replied as he stared into the flames.

Sam thought maybe he could deal with the loss of his Alpha, with the severed bond, the emptiness left behind. Yeah, Sam thought he could deal with all that. Work through it. But he couldn't do it without Dean. And Dean didn't seem interested in dealing with it. So, Sam stood with his brother, felt the loss of his Alpha, and stuffed his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't reach for Dean. It was fine. They were orphans, packless, except for each other. It was going to be fine.

 

They went to Bobby's. He wasn't pack, technically. As in, there was no pack bond between them but he was the closest to pack that they had. Dean was going to work on Baby, and Sam was going to...He didn't know. Help Bobby research? Maybe.

“How you boys holding up?” Bobby asked Sam over a beer in the kitchen. They had been there for a day or so. This was the first time Bobby had really sat down to talk to him, he figured he had been giving them space.

“Don't know,” Sam responded honestly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Dean still not talking to you?”

“No. When does Dean want to talk about anything?”

Bobby stared at him a for a couple of seconds. “Give him time. He'll come around.”

“Sure,” Sam responded, and took another sip of his beer just to have something to do with his hands.

They sat in silence for a little bit, finishing off their beers.

“So,” Sam started, “you need any help with anything?”

“Could always use your help, Sam,” Bobby responded with a friendly slap on the back.

Sam nodded, and felt the ache in his shoulders lessen a bit.

 

Sam had tried talking to Dean a few times. It hadn't worked. He decided to follow Bobby's advice, and gave him some space. Let him burrow underneath the Impala and heal his wounds with grease and transmission fluid.

At night, he would lie on the bed in Bobby's spare bedroom while Dean slept on the couch, and he would think about their next step. They needed to keep going. Needed to complete their mission. Kill the demon. Avenge their mom. Jessica. Their father. More than that, they needed a purpose. A focus for Dean to take his frustration and grief out on. Sam needed an outlet too. An outlet for his guilt. Guilt for arguing with Dad. Guilt for feeling the loss of his Alpha more than the loss of his father.

 

He had decided that enough was enough. He was going to talk to Dean, and Dean was going to listen this time. They were going to deal with this. Dean wasn't the only person who had lost someone. He didn't get to close himself off. Sam waited until Dean was lying on the couch, his eyes open staring at the ceiling, before he approached him.

“Dean,” he murmured.

Dean didn't turn his head. Didn't respond.

“Dean,” Sam said again, more firmly.

“What?” Dean responded.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah? What about?”

Sam came into the room, moved a chair so he faced Dean, and sat down.

“We need to talk about what we're gonna do.”

Dean looked toward where he was sitting and raised his eyebrows.

“Look, Dean, we can't hide out here forever. We need to keep going, man. We need to track down the demon.”

Dean didn't say anything, just turned back so he was staring at the ceiling again.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Dean-”

“Not now, Sam,' Dean interrupted.

“If not now, when?”

“I don't know. Just not now.”

“Dean-”

“Seriously, Sam. Just. Just fuck off, okay?”

And maybe Sam would have gotten angry, would have pushed the issue if Dean had sounded pissed off. But he didn't. He sounded resigned. Blank. All Sam could do was nod, and leave the room.

 

After the failure that was the night before, Sam had decided to try a different method. If talking didn't work, he was pretty sure that action would. Dean needed a release. He needed to let go of some of his tension instead of burying it within himself. Working on the car wasn't helping as much as Sam had hoped. He would stay out all day, and when he came in nothing had changed. He was still closed off, his shoulders tight, his eyes shuttered.

Sam had one more card up his sleeve. He was Dean's soulmate, and he wasn't above using that. He got a beer from Bobby's fridge and went outside to where his brother was underneath the Impala.

“Dean, figured you might be thirsty. Got you a beer, man,” Sam said.

He saw Dean's body tense for a second before he slid out from underneath the car.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Dean responded, and reached for the bottle.

It wasn't much of a response, but Sam felt encouraged. He squatted next to Dean and gave him his beer.

He gestured toward the car. “How's it going?”

“It's coming along,” Dean said.

Sam cleared his throat. “Good. Good.”

They were both silent for a few minutes.

“Did you want something or...,” Dean trailed off.

“Um, yeah. Yeah.” Sam leaned forward and brushed his brother's lips with his own. He pulled back for a second, and then leaned in again. He was stopped by Dean's hand on his chest.

“Dean?”

Dean was looking at him, eyes serious, fake grin on his face. “I know your itching to get into my pants, Sammy, but now's not the time.”

“I wasn't-”

Dean shook his head. “Gotta get Baby fixed up. Bobby probably needs help with something, right?”

Dean put his beer down and slid underneath the car again. Sam stared at his blue-jeaned clad legs. There's a hole in the left knee. There are strings around it, and it looks like it's trying to move into the territory of Dean's thigh. Sam wants to pull at the strings. Wants to unravel the whole damn leg, but he stands up instead and turns to leave.

“Thanks for the beer,” Dean called out, like an afterthought.

“Sure,” Sam responded. He made his way back to the house, rubbing his chest where Dean had pushed him away. He just needed time. Everything would be fine. He had to respect Dean's boundaries, right? It was fine. They were fine. He was fine.

 


	22. Update

Sorry, this is one of those chapters that aren't really chapters. Due to some unforeseen real life events (my husband asked me for a divorce), this story is going on hiatus. However, I have no plans to abandon it. It will be finished. Hopefully if I can get my shit together, it should be updated in December. Sorry to make y'all wait and thank you for your patience. 

Seriously, I promise this fic will be finished even if it takes me five years, nay, ten years, nay, a thousand years (it won't take that long, I'm not immortal I'll be long dead by then). I didn't write that damn outline for nothing.

See y'all in December.


	23. Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So...yeah, I didn't post in December. But, here's another chapter for you. From here on out, this story is probably going to be very slowly updated. Thought I would give y'all fair warning. It will not be abandoned. Like I said previously, I didn't write that long ass outline for nothing. Check the end notes for some warnings about about this chapter, didn't add a warning to the tags because it is very mild. Although there is a new tag! Some dialogue from 'Bloodlust" was used.
> 
> Oh! And thanks everyone who commented. I appreciate all of them, and all of your support!

_It is widely believed that Omegas have biological needs for Alphas. This is not the case. Rather, Omegas have been socially conditioned to need Alphas. This can be seen in Omegas raised with traditional pack dynamics. These Omegas are more likely  to choose Alphas as mates, whereas Omegas raised in more progressive environments often choose Betas or other Omegas as mates. - Taylor's Guide to Genders and Gender Identity in Alphas, Betas, and Omegas._

 

He wasn't fine. He was breaking. Dean was getting more and more distant from him. Going back to flirting with random girls at bars. It hurt Sam, but he understood. Dean was dealing by not dealing. Sam knew, that soon, things were going to come to a head. That Dean's cracks would become too much and that he would be forced to spill all of his contents. A person can only repress so much. Sam was going to be there for him when he broke.

In the meantime, he was floundering. Becoming something he never was. An obedient son. He didn't know what to do without his Alpha. Hadn't known that John's presence in his life as an Alpha was important. Dean was becoming frustrated with him.

“Maybe when you go back to school-”

“I'm not going back, Dean. I've already said that.”

“Is it the soulmate thing? Cause that didn't stop you before.”

“I didn't know then, that we were soulmates,” Sam responded, exasperated.

“Would you have made the same decision?” Dean asked.

Sam took a moment, breathed deep. “Yes.”

Dean nodded. “So, just because Dad's dead your plans go to shit, and you become his little lapdog. That sure wasn't how it was when he was alive, man.”

“Maybe not,” Sam agreed. “But Dad isn't the only reason for my decision.”

Sam leaned in to kiss Dean. Dean pulled back, turned his face away. Again. They hadn't kissed in two weeks.

“Do you not want this anymore, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “Just give some fucking space right now.”

Dean turned way, grabbed his keys off of the table, and left the motel room.

At least they were hunting again, if nothing else. At first, Dean had seemed resistant, but after their first hunt back he was throwing himself into it. They weren't resting in between, just going from one hunt to the next.

The last one had been clowns. Sam shuddered. Man, he fucking hated clowns. But it was over. They had won. But it had been a hollow victory. Dean still refused to talk to him, and then had beat the shit out of the Impala. And now, here they were again. Working another case. Freaking vampires.

A few hours later, Dean walked in the door.

“There's a local bar on the outskirts. Figured we might have some luck there. Maybe our fanged friends were patrons,” Dean said.

There was no mention of anything they had discussed earlier. Sam sighed. “Yeah, man, sounds good,” he agreed.

They pulled up to the bar. It looked just like all the other dives they had ever been to. A place where they might have hustled pool, where Dean might have picked up some woman in a short skirt and plunging neckline with red painted on lips. Yeah, he could see vamps hanging out here.

They went in, questioned the bartender. Sure enough, Dean had been on the money. The bartender knew of the vamps, even knew where they were staying. Barker Farm. Great. That didn't take long.

As they left, Sam noticed they were being followed. He looked over at Dean.

“Those beers were kinda shitty, huh?” he asked him, as he ran his left hand through his hair. He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Dean responded.

Good. He'd already noticed. Dean cocked his eyebrow at him. Sam tapped his thigh. And they waited in ambush.

As the man came around the corner, he was pinned to the wall with Dean's knife at his throat.

“Smile,” Dean requested.

“What?” the man responded.

“Show us those pearly whites,” Dean said.

“Oh, for the love of-You want to stick that thing someplace else. I'm not a vampire.”

Sam frowned. Who the hell was this guy?

“Yeah, that's right. I heard you guys in there,” the man continued.

“What do you know about vampires?” Sam asked.

“How to kill them. Now seriously, bro. That knife's making me itch.”

He started to pull away from Sam and Dean, and Sam's grip tightened on his arm.

“Whoa. Easy there, Chachi,” the guy said, and he brought his hand up to reveal his fangless gums.

Didn't matter. Sam still didn't trust him.

 

They ended up following Gordon, the man from the alley, to a mill. He was almost decapitated by a vampire but Sam managed to get him out of the way while Dean killed the vampire. With an electric saw. Fuck. Sam was never going to get that stain out.

Gordon and Dean decided to bond over beers, and Sam decided that he had had enough. He went to back to the motel, and of course he ended up being kidnapped. It was just that kind of day. Luckily, Lenore seemed reasonable, and had let him go. Now he just needed to convince Dean that the vampires weren't killing anyone, and maybe letting them go was for the best.

 

“If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job,” Dean said.

The plan to convince Dean wasn't working well. And all Sam could think about was his visions. His precognitive bullshit or whatever the fuck. Wasn't he supernatural? Not of the norm? Was this why Dean was pulling away? He shook his head, denying the words. Not just the words. The implications of them. The feelings behind them.

“No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!”

“Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them.”

If Dean had punched him in the face it wouldn't have hurt any less.

“No, Dean, I don't think so, all right? Not this time.”

“Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows.”

Fucking Gordon. Sam thinks it's time to put all of the cards on the table. “He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he? A poor one.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day. He might be an Alpha, but he's not our Alpha.”

“You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this,” Dean responded.

“You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. You won't even touch me anymore. You push me away every time I come close. I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. We lost our Alpha. And that leaves a hole, and it hurts, but you can't just fill it up with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory. Why don't you just let me help?”

Dean nodded. He stood still for a second. “Okay,” he said. He turned away for a moment and then back toward Sam. And then all of a sudden his lips were on Sam's.

This was not a gentle a kiss. It was violent. Bruising. Dean tugged at Sam's lips with his teeth. Not playfully, but painfully. Sam kept his arms at his side and stood still.

“Is this what you want little brother? My mouth on you?” Dean asked and bit the side of Sam's neck. Hard.

“My hands on you?” Dean demanded again. He then put his hands on Sam's shoulders digging his fingers in. It felt like a punishment. Like a mockery of their bond.

Sam didn't object. He stood there under Dean's rage and submitted. Dean rose up to kiss Sam again. When he released Sam's mouth, Sam responded. “Whatever you want, Dean. However you want to use me, if it's what you need. I'll let you.”

Dean snarled a bit. “Yeah? Gonna be my good little Omega? My little bitch?”

Sam struggled, jerking a little away from his brother. “Not your bitch, Dean. Your mate.”

Dean was still for a moment. “Yeah. But you need an Alpha don't you? That's what this whole thing is about. Projecting your need for an Alpha onto me. Don't worry, baby. I can be an Alpha for you.”

Dean started to drag Sam to the motel room. Sam was compliant for the most part. He walked with Dean. Helped him to get to the room. When they reached it, Dean pushed Sam toward one of the beds and slammed the door behind him.

“Get naked, and lie down on the bed,” Dean ordered.

Sam was hesitant for a few seconds. Unsure.

Dean was taking off his own shirt. “Now, Omega.”

Sam took a breath. And then another. He could do this. If this is what Dean needed from him, he could do this.

His hands trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt. His breath quickened as he watched Dean undo his belt buckle. Because despite the way this was happening, Sam wanted this. He undid his own belt buckle, slowly pulled his jeans down. They got stuck on his shoes. He sat down on the bed and took them off, and his jeans with them. He was left in nothing but his socks and underwear. When Sam looked up, Dean was staring at him. Still in his jeans, unbuttoned, with the belt buckle undone.

Sam scooted to the center of the bed and rested his head on the pillows, and waited.

“That's a good boy,” Dean murmured.

Sam shuddered at the praise.

He looked over at Dean, who had moved to the bed. Instead of sitting down, he put one of his boots on the bed next to Sam's hand.

“Take it off,” he said.

Sam nodded, and unlaced Dean's boot. He had to sit up to take it off, and then he slipped it off his brother's foot. Dean shifted, put his other foot up. Sam took that one off too without Dean having to say anything.

And then Dean was over Sam's body, and they were kissing. It still wasn't gentle, wasn't sweet, but Sam surged up into it. No longer pliant but assertive. Needy.

Dean pushed down on Sam's shoulders. “Be still,” he said against Sam's open mouth. Sam fell back on the bed and nodded.

“Turn over,” Dean said.

Sam followed the order, hurrying now, eager to submit. Somewhere in his mind, he was appalled. He had always balked under his father's commands before. Even with Jess, who he considered his Alpha, he was not compliant. Dean gave him orders and he rolled over like a dog. The bigger part of Sam didn't give a fuck. The bigger part of Sam just wanted Dean to touch him. To make him feel good.

Dean was pulling off his underwear now, dragging them down his hips, his legs. And then Sam heard Dean as he pulled down his zipper.

“Are you wet for me?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded. He could feel his slick pooling between his thighs.

Dean didn't say anything else. But Sam felt his fingers circle his entrance and then sink into him. He moaned, a little frustrated. It was good, but it wasn't enough.

“Shh,” Dean shushed him.

He withdrew his fingers, and Sam heard him moving his hand up and down his cock. Sam whined a little, and moved his ass up higher.

Dean slapped it. “I said keep still.”

Sam forced himself to go limp. Forced himself to do whatever Dean asked of him to do. Then, Dean was feeding his cock into Sam's hungry and desperate hole. It felt good, stretched Sam out. He moaned at the fullness.

“Who am I to you?” Dean asked as he was pounding into his brother.

“My mate,” Sam responded.

“Wrong answer,” Dean said. He stopped thrusting, leaned down to breathe into Sam's ear, “Who am I to you, bitch?”

Sam knew what he wanted then. He dutifully answered, “My Alpha.” He waited a few seconds until Dean started thrusting again. “Jerk,” he added on.

Dean swatted his ass again, but didn't pause. Sam felt his orgasm build. It had been so long since he had been with anyone. Not since Jess. He was so close.

“Dean-” he groaned.

Dean stopped moving.

“Alpha,” Sam whined. Begged.

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “I'll give you what you need, Sammy.”

Dean started thrusting harder, and Sam keened. It only took a few thrusts to take him over the edge. Dean didn't last much longer, and then Sam was being filled with Dean's come.

Dean pulled out. Sam turned over, watched Dean as he wiped his dick off with Sam's underwear, and fastened his pants.

“Get dressed. We need to get going. Got vampires to hunt,” Dean said. Then he walked out the motel room door, leaving Sam messy with his come.

 

Gordon was tied up. Dean had learned not all vampires are evil. That monsters can choose, just like people can. They didn't talk about it much. Dean had apologized for taking Gordon's side. Sam had accepted. And now they were driving...somewhere. To their next case, off into the sunset, Sam didn't know.

Dean reached over and put his hand on his thigh. Sam looked over.

“This okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Sam responded.

“Uh, Sam, about before-”

“That was okay too. It was what you needed,” Sam paused for a second, before adding on, “Alpha.”

Dean turned to stare at him for a few seconds. Sam could feel his hand tighten on his thigh. He turned around to face the road without saying anything, but he was smirking a bit.

Sam smiled to himself, and looked out the window. Maybe things would be fine after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some dub-con sorta between Sam and Dean, when Dean forces several kisses on Sam.


End file.
